Fifty Days
by ohgoditsbriony
Summary: "In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love. —Sasuke/Hinata
1. day o1

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **SasuHina, some NaruHina  
**beta'd: **16.09.2010, by SilveringBlue.  
**chapter: **o**1**/5o

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**notes**1**: **

Yes, I am back from the _fuutttuuurree. _And, let me tell you, past me, double digits _are_ cool.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first (freshly beta'd) chapter of Fifty Days. I will complete this fanfic, even if it takes me years, and trolls have to prod me with small sticks until I update. If you ever think I'm falling behind, just drop me a PM; hell, if you're getting even the slightest bit impatient, I won't be upset. Basically, your PM will just shout, "Hey, Briony, grind your gears and get a-working!"

Oh, by the way - if you're looking for a fast-paced, straight into the romance, SasuHina fanfic, this probably won't be your cup of tea. For the majority of this fanfic, Hinata will probably be in love with Naruto - and Sasuke won't admit his feelings for her until much later on. I plan on pacing this realistically (hopefully).

Happy reading!

- _briony_

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**.**

**.**

**.**

Hyuuga Hinata was a kind person.

Granted, she lacked the confidence necessary to become a valuable, strong kunoichi. Her self-doubt and insecurity were her biggest downfalls, along with her ability only to see the weakness in her character. She was not at all confident and she was too quiet, she doubted she could be attractive with her shy personality and her frumpy clothes, and she knew she was a wallflower, doomed to spend the rest of her life simply blending in, but she was a kindly person nonetheless.

However, simply being kind would not make her a strong kunoichi, as her father chose to remind her time and time again. Kindness was a weakness and her enemies would see it as that. Kindness would not make her a strong leader of the Hyuuga clan, when her time finally came. Kindness did not make her father proud; he regarded it as something pitiable and pathetic, and therefore regarded her as exactly the same thing — and it _hurt_ her.

It hurt her to look into his eyes, and see he was disgusted with her; to see that he wished she was Neji, or Hanabi, or anyone else. It hurt her more than anything else, but she didn't mention it at all; when she passed her father in the corridor, she would lower her gaze respectfully and continue onwards.

"Hyuuga Hinata is a lovely child," her teacher, Iruka, had gushed, during her academy days, "Although very quiet. She is extremely kind and compassionate; I'm sure she will make a wonderful mother one day, and a beautiful wife."

Her father had been outraged. His daughter, he had informed him, was to become the Hyuuga heir — she had to become the strongest kunoichi in all of Konoha, if she wished to lead such a prestigious clan. Her teacher had nodded, attempting to appease her father, but she had seen the doubt in his eyes; and if _she_ had noticed it, she was certain her father had too.

She did not graduate the academy with flying colours, like her cousin, Neji; in fact, she had barely managed to pass at all. After hearing of her so-called achievement, her father had simply gazed at her in disdain.

Hinata had spent most of her time after that in her bedroom.

Her sensei, Yuhi Kurenai, disagreed with her father. One day, before trying out for the Chunin exams, her father had sat in on one of her training lessons; he'd said nothing throughout the entire lesson. When Hinata had collapsed for the fifth time, he'd simply stood up and left; and the disappointment in his eyes had been obvious. After the lesson, Kurenai had taken her away from her teammates, Shino and Kiba, and placed her hand gently on her cheek, staring deep into Hinata's eyes. For a while, neither of them had said a single thing.

And then finally Kurenai had tilted her head and smiled and said, "You are a kind person, Hinata, and that is the best thing you can be."

At the time, Hinata had simply bowed her head, her cheeks flushed, and her sensei had left without another word. It hadn't been enough for Hinata then; it had embarrassed her and left her feeling ashamed. Kind? Kind was not a word used to describe a shinobi. Kind was a word used to describe mothers or teachers. Kind was not a word used to describe a dangerous and deadly assassin.

Kind was not a word she would use to describe Kiba — although, of course, he _was _kind. Brave was the first word which sprung to mind and strong was the second. Handsome was a close third, simply because he was all of those things, and brother was forth. Kind was not a word she would use to describe Shino either, although he _was _kind as well. Deadly was the first word she could think of, closely followed by dangerous and strong. He was not boyishly handsome, like Kiba — mysterious was a better word to describe him — but, much like Kiba, brother was definitely the fourth word.

But Kiba and Shino had both disagreed with her father as well.

"Hinata, you're the nicest girl I've ever met in my entire life," Kiba had told her, rolling his eyes and fidgeting awkwardly. "It's better than being the strongest girl or the smartest girl, because… because…"

He'd trailed off uncertainly, before punching her shoulder gently and grinning.

"Because if you weren't so nice, you just wouldn't be the Hinata we all know and love. Right, Shino?" he'd finished, nudging his friend, obviously pleased with his little speech.

Shino's expression was unreadable and his voice was strained. "Never…" He too had trailed off; and he'd pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Never try and be what you are not, Hinata, in an attempt to make someone else proud. It is not fair on to you."

The matter had never been brought up again.

Uzumaki Naruto was also a kind shinobi. Hinata had realised this, after watching him and admiring him from afar. In fact, he was the kindest shinobi she knew, and the strongest. As her admiration slowly turned to love, she had decided that a kunoichi could be kind _and _strong; and so she had trained, not for herself, but because she needed to prove her point and she needed Naruto and everyone else to recognize her strength.

Hyuuga Hinata was naturally a very kind person — but sometimes that could be more of a weakness than a strength.

**.**

**.**

"Did you hear?" Yamanaka Ino asked, leaning across the counter and rubbing her hands on her apron, before reaching across for the pair of roses Hinata was holding (one red, one white, oh how beautiful indeed).

"H—Hear what?" Hinata murmured, clasping her (now empty) hands in front of her, her mind elsewhere; Naruto had finally agreed to go on a date with her; he'd finally recognised her, and no amount of gossip was going to stop her from getting to him in time. He'd said he'd meet her at the ramen stand, and they'd eat there, and then he'd take her for a special surprise, and it all sounded so romantic and perfect that nothing at all could spoil it.

For a second, Ino didn't register Hinata's response — she was too busy concentrating on tugging off tiny leaves, making the flowers look pretty and perfect, wrapping them in black paper, sprinkling black glitter on them — and then she looked up, her eyes wide, stopping altogether. "You… you really don't know?"

Hinata blushed furiously — oh, it was _always_ that way with her — she was _always_ the last person to know, because no one _ever_ felt the need to tell her. Even when she found out Naruto had returned; even when she'd found out she was no longer going to be the leader of the Hyuuga clan, and the position had been given (grudgingly) to Neji or Hanabi_; _she had been the last to know.

_Always_ the last to know.

Ino shifted the roses to one side, gently, before leaning across the counter and raising her eyebrow. "Everyone's been talking about it," she said, flicking her blonde hair casually and attempting to look disinterested, even though her eyes were burning fiercely, excited and pleased, feeling important that there was someone to tell, that someone didn't know. "It was big news, the moment we found out… Sakura came here straight away, all pale and flustered, and announced it — I think the entire street heard her."

Hinata nodded slowly, not at all bothered — gossip didn't interest her. Besides, if it was between Sakura and Ino, it usually _was _nothing but meaningless rumours.

"Uchiha Sasuke has been captured."

The idea didn't quite click in Hinata's mind — it wasn't that she'd been close to Sasuke, goodness no, he was a good person turned bad, just like her cousin had been and that Gaara person, and she had never really had the chance to talk to him — in her academy years, she hadn't found him at all interesting and, once he'd left, she'd felt only pity for him. How could someone make a person like Naruto hurt so badly? How could he do that to anyone? She had wanted desperately to comfort Naruto, but the blonde boy wouldn't hear an ill word about Sasuke, and so she had remained silent, her heart aching (even so).

No, the idea that Sasuke had finally been _captured _was bizarre. She was certain she was dreaming; the Uchiha was stronger than possible and had become dark and twisted since he'd left, and he'd repeatedly said over and over again that he was not, under any circumstances, coming back. Ever.

"Who caught him?" she whispered, finally, and Ino looked triumphant, pleased that she had managed to snare Hinata's interest.

"That's what surprised me the most — he was found all beat up and bloody, and a couple of ANBU stunned him and dragged him back here," Ino whispered conspiratorially, as though it had been her plan all along, before leaning backwards, her attention distracted. "Who are these flowers for, by the way?"

"N—N—Naruto…"

Ino let out a high-pitched squeal, leaning over the counter again to congratulate Hinata, telling her it was about time that boy grew up and realised what he was missing, and then announced that the flowers were free of charge, and oh boy, would Naruto really be going on a date today, or any time soon, what with Sasuke being caught and all?

Hinata fidgeted. "I ought to go and f—find him, to see if he w—wants to rearrange the date," she said quietly, picking up the roses gently and holding them against her chest. "He's probably not in the mood right n—now."

Ino shook her head wearily. "Jeez, Hinata… You're really going to pass up this date? Due to the fact that the guy is so dense, this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity."

She simply smiled and shrugged slightly, bowing her head in thanks for the roses and then turning away; for a few seconds, she stood there, simply relishing in the sweet scent of the various different flowers around her; and then she walked steadily forwards, clutching her white and red roses in her hands and stepping out of the door and into the street.

(Behind her, Ino shook her head again.

"That girl is way too nice, sometimes.")

As Hinata walked, she found her mind straying back to the captured Uchiha; her clan had been in constant competition with his clan, she vaguely remembered, before their deaths. It had been entirely down to pride, and she was certain of that—words had been exchanged, insults and threats made, and two of the most powerful clans in Konohagakure had constantly tried to outdo each other, time and time again. After the violent demise of the Uchiha clan, the warring had been completely forgotten — the Uchiha clan were now saints, heroes in the villagers eyes, and therefore the Hyuuga clan could not afford to have any ill will towards (the memory of) the Uchiha clan. Once or twice, she vaguely remembered her father having discussions with the clan elders, as to whether or not they should offer the remaining Uchiha a bed to sleep in and food to eat, or a sum of money as compensation.

The idea had been quickly dismissed.

Sasuke had been a quiet boy at the academy — mysterious and silent — and he had been fawned over, by adults and children alike. "Look at that strong and handsome boy," mothers had cried, clasping their hands together. "Oh, it's such a _shame." _The other girls had found him tall, dark and handsome — he was the fairytale prince charming they were all searching for, and he fit perfectly into their happily ever afters.

Hinata had felt so _sorry _for him.

He had been a quiet person, tending to keep to himself, just like Shino — it was his tragic background and his handsome looks which drew attention to him. As far as she knew, none of the adults ever approached him, unless they wished to talk to him about the Uchiha clan massacre, and if there were one thing he definitely _didn't _want to talk about, it was that. And as far as she knew, none of the girls had ever wanted to talk to him — they'd simply watched from afar, every now and then vying for his attention, and then swooning as he dismissed them briskly.

She had been able to sympathise with him then, back in the academy; he had been silently compared to his brother for such a long time, just as she was silently judged and dismissed — and, judging from the look in her teacher's eyes, he too had been silently judged and dismissed. Never quite living up to anyone's expectations.

She wondered if he'd finally surpassed everyone's expectations now — if he'd done the thing she could never do — or was the village disappointed in him, for finally being captured?

She heaved a sigh, slumping slightly, and glanced down at the roses in her hand. One red, one white. Hinata had chosen them originally because they had caught her eyes. The first rose, such a pure white — as white as a dove, as white as _freedom_ — and the second rose —a s red as blood, as red as _sin_ — had been winding around each other and, despite all the pretty flowers she could have chosen from, she picked those.

It didn't matter now, though. She doubted Naruto would want to go on a date with her, not after Sasuke's arrival, and it would be unfair to force him to go. Briefly, she wondered where he would be, so that she could arrange a second date with him (if possible), and wish him good luck for when he finally went to see Sasuke, because he definitely would, sooner or later.

The Hokage's office, most probably.

She looked around her quickly, taking in her surroundings; she was at the edge of the marketplace, not too far away from the Hokage's building; and if she ran, she could probably catch Naruto on his way out or in. There was a sharp prick of pain in her left hand and she glanced down, bewildered — she was still clutching the roses, so tightly that the thorns had punctured her skin.

A bead of blood welled up, remained still for a few seconds, and then dribbled down the white rose, staining a petal red.

"Ouch," Hinata mumbled, inspecting the wound and then turning back towards the office — her cut temporarily forgotten as she broke into a sprint.

**.**

**.**

Behind her, the roses dropped to the floor. One red, one white; but not so pure a white now, stained red. There was no way she would give those to Naruto anymore.

The wind picked up.

The white petal, with the red stain, was swept away, floating down the street and far far away, never to be seen again.

**.**

**.**

"_WHAT?"_

Hinata winced, stepping warily away from the door to the Hokage's office; Naruto's loud outburst had startled her and once again reminded her that she definitely should not be eavesdropping. Even so, she stepped back to the door anyway, checking first to see that no one was nearby.

"You heard me, brat," Tsunade hissed, and Hinata could tell she was seething. "The council has decided that neither you nor Sakura will be allowed within spitting distance of Uchiha Sasuke — and I, for one, agree."

"You can't be _serious!_" Naruto wailed.

"I'm deadly serious; and this is a decision _neither of you _can change my mind about — if either of you are spotted near Sasuke, during the first few weeks of his imprisonment, you will both be under immediate suspension and house arrest. Am I clear?"

"But—!"

"I said, _am I clear?"_

"…Yes, Tsunade…" Naruto finally mumbled, grudgingly, sounding like a five year old who had just been scolded by his mother — and Hinata could see his expression; tight-lipped, his head bowed submissively, his fists clenched and his bright eyes clouded over with darkness.

"Hokage… _Tsunade…_" Sakura finally spoke up, her voice tense and strained. "Do you… do you have any idea of what his… _sentence_ will be?"

For a while, Tsunade didn't reply — she probably had her back to them, looking out over her village or otherwise she was sat behind her desk, pretending to shift through papers; Hinata had seen her use both tricks before.

"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed."

There was a roar of outrage from inside, and a shriek; outside, Hinata's eyes widened and she paled. Fifty days… She sank to her knees, her heart aching for her beloved Naruto — in fifty days, his best friend would be executed; she could barely imagine the pain and misery he had to be going through, and she bowed her head, staring intensely at her hands. And she found herself thinking of Sasuke — fifty days, and throughout half of that time, he would have no visitors; who would want to visit a traitor, condemned to death? Kiba had told her once that searching for Sasuke was fruitless; "the moment we find him, the council will deem him a threat and sentence him to death — no doubt about it. He's better off _not _being found."

"F—_fifty days?" _Naruto cried, his voice filled with disbelief and rage. "Can't you… can't you change your mind?"

"I was outvoted."

"You're the _Hokage!"_

"It's for the safety of the village."

"Bullshit—!"

"—there's _nothing _I can do!" Tsunade finally snapped, shouting, and there was the sound of something shattering. "The council decided! I was fully against it, but there was no way… I couldn't convince them. When you went after Sasuke the first time, people were hurt — your friends nearly _died _— Naruto, _you _almost died! He left the village; he betrayed us — he betrayed _you as well!_ And, believe me, I tried — seal his chakra, I said, he'll never perform another jutsu — but that would have been as good as death for your beloved Sasuke!"

There was a tense, heavy silence, punctuated by panting.

"Is _that _what you want, Naruto? We spare him so that he can just go ahead and kill _himself?_ What do you suggest I do?"

"Let us… let us see him, please," Sakura begged, and Hinata could hear her voice wobble as she fought back tears. "Please… I don't want him to die, thinking we've forgotten him. He doesn't… he doesn't deserve that…"

Judging from the silence and Sakura's sudden outburst of tears, Hinata assumed Tsunade had shaken her head — and she was struck by how personal and private the conversation was — she shouldn't be listening. And yet, she couldn't move away. She wanted so desperately to help her friends, to ease their pain, but she couldn't…

Hinata stood up, her heart thumping in her chest, and walked back the way she came, striding purposefully.

She knew what she could do.

**.**

**.**

Konohagakure's prison was one of the most secure prisons for miles around. It was secluded, deep in the middle of Konoha's forests, and hidden by a genjutsu. A pit had been dug around the entire building, deep and dark and filled with poison vines and snakes and various other deadly creatures; the only way to cross it was over the bridge, and there were guards at either end. The prison itself was surrounded by a wall, higher than the trees around it, where shinobi stood watch at the top, and there was no way of seeing into the prison from the outside, and therefore no way of seeing outside, from the inside. Most of the prisons were above ground and these were reserved for those with a less serious crime: mass murderers and traitors and other such deadly criminals were kept underground, where security was tighter.

Morino Ibiki did not often see many pretty women down at Konohagakure's most notorious prison — despite the fact that visitors were allowed, no one wanted to be associated with the criminals whom were imprisoned there. There was also the fact that Ibiki himself was quite an intimidating figure, what with his scarred face and narrowed eyes; it was even rarer still that someone from such a prestigious clan, such as the Hyuuga clan, would ever be seen down at the prison.

He raised his eyebrows at Hyuuga Hinata. "Evening, Hinata," he mumbled, leaning against the high gate and peering at Hinata. "Who're you here for, then?"

"U—Uchiha Sasuke."

His eyebrows managed to rise even higher and this time, he couldn't keep the curiosity from his voice. "How… strange…" Ibiki blinked, before promptly scowling. "That's a lot of paperwork for me, y'know; fancy reconsidering?"

Hinata's cheeks flushed pink and she shook her head. He ruffled her hair good-naturedly — he wasn't _that _scary; it was more of a character he played when he needed to — and then beckoned for her to follow him. They crossed the bridge easily and Ibiki exchanged greetings and whispers with the guards at the opposite side. Each one of them was a big and burly shinobi, who flexed their muscles and practically growled at Hinata as she passed, with a nervous smile.

She followed Ibiki through a door she hadn't spotted previously. There was no genjutsu on it; it was simply built to look precisely like the wall, and shrouded in ivy. Inside was swarming with guards—a few of them even had dogs and watch lights — and, just in front of her, were around fifteen different prison blocks. Each block was filled with around twenty small, cramped cells. She peered at one as she passed. It was more like a little stone room, made out of concrete, fitted with a bed and bowl for a toilet and the smallest window to let in light.

She shivered.

"Welcome to heaven," Ibiki smirked, waving one hand at the various cells. "Brilliant, isn't it? The most secure prison I've ever seen — plus, it's got the best torture chamber for miles around. Sunagakure's barely compares."

He chuckled lightly, fixing her with a relatively manic grin. "Not that you'd care about torture chambers and prison cells, am I right, Hinata? You're far too nice and proper for that — you're the heir to the Hyuuga clan, after all."

Hinata didn't bother correcting him.

He led her towards a set of stairs, which spiralled down into the ground and, before they began their descent, he span around and clutched her hand. "You need to be careful now. Stay a safe distance away from the cells. Walk directly down the middle. Follow my lead. Don't look anyone in the eye, and don't answer any questions about anything, understand?"

Hinata nodded and he gazed at her with a critical eye, before nodding, apparently satisfied. He stepped down the first few steps, beckoning for her to follow — she did so, placing one hand on the wall to steady herself and descended into the unwelcoming darkness. Finally, she reached a corridor and let out her breath, which she didn't know she'd been holding.

She gazed into the first cell, despite herself, relieved when she realised it was empty; and then she peered inside — the entire cell was completely white. The walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was white; even the bed was white. Every single thing inside that room was white. She shivered again; it must be such a boring and awful place to live, so depressing and dreary. She blinked, realising that Ibiki had managed to get pretty far ahead, and hurried after him. Upon noticing her, the inhabitants of the other cells began moaning and speaking rapidly at her, asking her questions and whispering names at her.

She didn't answer.

Hinata blinked, as Ibiki slowed down, turning a corner. He gazed over his shoulder at her. "The Uchiha's a special case — originally, the cell was being held for his brother but, well… one Uchiha is the same as the other."

She winced, even though the insult wasn't directed at her — Uchiha Itachi had massacred the whole of his clan, including Sasuke's mother and father. They were hardly the same at all. Ibiki pushed open the door, moving slightly to the side so that Hinata could step around him. She did so cautiously, barely able to stop herself from gasping as she gazed at Sasuke's cell.

It was completely white, just the same as the other cell she had noticed — but there was one definite huge difference. Uchiha Sasuke was positioned in the centre of the room, held in a white straightjacket; his arms were pressed uncomfortably tight against his chest; from the shoulders of the straightjacket were two chains — these stretched across the room, attaching at the ceiling — his feet were bound together with another chain, which ended attached to the floor, directly below him. Almost instantly, she found herself activating her byakugan, confirming her thoughts — the straightjacket was somehow sealing his chakra — _draining _him of his chakra; it seeped through the chains and into the ceiling and floor, completely harmless. He was probably drugged up as well. What she could see of his skin was pale, or bloodied and bruised. His head was bowed low and his hair hung across his face, which wassweaty and grimy with blood.

She was separated from his cell by a glass panel, with a few holes drilled into it. Stood in either corner of her side of the room, were two masked ANBU members — one with the mask of a bear, the other a rabbit. One female, she presumed, the other male — they chilled her, and scared her so terribly, although she would never admit it. Positioned in front of the glass, was a chair.

"Lucky you, Uchiha," Ibiki sneered, moving past her to rap his knuckles on the glass. "It looks like you've got a visitor."

Sasuke ignored him.

"Make yourself at home, Hinata — the ANBU will remain inside until they are certain you're safe — then, and only _then_, will they stand outside; and just behind the door, as well," Ibiki informed her, throwing Sasuke one last look of disgust. "If you need them, at any time, you can just knock. You have one hour."

Hinata bowed her head in thanks.

Ibiki shook his head, his expression blank. "This is more than the Uchiha deserves, Hyuuga Hinata. You're a kind girl."

**.**

**.**

Uchiha Sasuke waited for the door to slam closed — waited for that bastard Ibiki to finally leave — and then looked up, although it hurt his neck and his back and his head to do so. He was drained, tired, exhausted, and even a movement that small was taking its toll on his body—he found himself panting as he gazed up at the newcomer, through grimy black hair.

A kunoichi — he could tell, from her bruised knuckles and her calloused fingers — of around his age, perhaps a year younger, sat opposite him in the uncomfortable metal chair he'd spent hours just staring at. She had dark hair, not quite black, almost a midnight blue, that hung just past her shoulders. Her skin was pale, much like his, which contrasted with the blue hue of her fringe. She had nice eyes, he thought, pale lilac and wide and looking anywhere but at him. She sat stiffly, her hands clasped in front of her body, her lilac coat zipped all the way up — a nice girl, he decided, the kind a guy would probably take home to his mother. Idly, he realised his mother would probably quite like a girl like her — and _that's_ about when he decided the drugs were making him delirious.

_Hyuuga Hinata._

He'd recognised the name offhandedly; if anything, he recognised the clan name more. They were a prestigious clan — his father had mentioned the leader, Hiashi, briefly. This girl couldn't be a member of the branch clan, because they wore their forehead protectors to hide their tattoos and she wore hers loose around her neck.

Her eyes finally flickered upwards, nervously meeting his. "G—Good evening, S—Sasuke," she mumbled, stammering over her words. No wonder; he was scrutinizing her like she was a slab of meat.

"Is it?" He drawled, but his words came out slurred.

He recognised her from the Chunin exams, but only vaguely — if he remembered correctly, she'd been sat next to during the first test, but he hadn't seen her during the second test. However, she'd obviously gotten through, because he'd spotted her briefly in the preliminary exam before he'd fallen unconscious and been carted away. He'd heard that she'd been pitted off against her cousin and had lost; if he remembered correctly (and it was difficult, what with his drugged and bleary mind), she'd been pretty injured. He wondered briefly if she'd managed to pass the exam yet, if she was a Chunin yet or higher — he doubted it; her face was too kindly, too shy, and too insecure.

He tilted his head slightly, his hair falling across his face, and blinked at her — she was nervous, he could tell, and the presence of the ANBU probably wasn't making her any happier. He wondered how long had passed since she'd entered the room. He decided he didn't care.

Finally, the ANBU shared a glance, before turning — the bear-mask left first, her blonde hair flowing behind her, closely followed by rabbit-mask. Sasuke waited for a moment and then glanced at Hinata, once again.

"Did Naruto make you come here?" he asked, genuinely curious — he doubted he'd ever once spoken to the girl in front of him and he vaguely recalled who she was — why else would she visit him, in his cell?

To his surprise, she shook her head.

"N—Naruto doesn't know I'm here," she said after a moment's consideration. "I o—overheard him talking to Tsunade and, w—well… He couldn't make it. So I came instead. I thought you might like a v—visitor."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

She blinked; it was her turn to be surprised. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why would you do something like that, for me _or_ Naruto?" he elaborated, speaking slowly, as though he was talking to a small child. Hinata frowned slightly at his tone of voice, but otherwise ignored it.

"Naruto is…" She trailed off, searching for words. "When Naruto r—realised he couldn't make it here, he sounded so upset. I didn't… I didn't like it. He smiles so m—much, that I don't l—like to think he f—feels pain."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but his head suddenly felt woozy and he shut his mouth again, waiting for her to continue.

"And you, Sasuke?" Hinata blinked, with an expression like she'd just woken up—she shook her head slightly and fidgeted with her top. "I just didn't like the i—idea of no one visiting you."

His eyebrows shot upwards and he quirked his head, frowning slightly — oh God, the drugs had made his head fuzzy and now he was imagining things people said as well — and he opened his mouth again. Then he closed it, puzzling for a second, although his expression remained mostly blank, but slightly weary.

"How much can you tell me?" He asked finally, struggling to form the words — they felt clumsy and heavy in his mouth and they didn't roll from his tongue like they used to. "About… about what's happened?"

He wondered if she'd grasp what he meant.

From the look of pity etched on her face, he grasped she did — her body language changed slightly, tensed, and she seemed more defensive and uncertain, as though she was entering onto foreign ground — but her eyes had already given away everything he needed to know.

"It's not going to end well, is it?" he asked, attempting to keep his tone mocking and dry, but it was difficult because his words were slurred and he could barely see straight.

Hinata shook her head slowly.

"It c—could end worse, Sasuke."

He cocked his head, smirking despite himself — his arms ached, bound to his chest, and the loss of chakra was weakening him more than he'd ever anticipated. He tried to shift, to move, to do anything, but it was too difficult; his bonds were too tight and he was too tired. "_Really_…?"

She nodded sadly.

"You could be _alone."_

**.**

**.**

Uchiha Sasuke slipped into unconsciousness long before the visiting time had finished; his head lolled and his breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling gradually, in perfect time. Hinata had stayed for a while, watching him curiously — she didn't think she'd ever seen anyone sleep before and she was amazed at how peaceful he looked. How kind and gentle his face became, and how lonely he looked, bound and chained up in that white room.

She stood up and rapped softly once on the door. The ANBU in the rabbit mask slid inside, tilting his head at her. "You've got a while left yet."

"He's tired," she mumbled, fumbling with the edge of her jacket and glancing back at the sleeping Uchiha. "I think it would be better for me to leave now."

The ANBU nodded and the action sharp and brisk, before beckoning for his partner to follow him through — the female ANBU nodded once to Hinata as well, taking her position in the corner of the room and standing perfectly still, staring impassively at the prisoner. Hinata bid them a good day, bowing her head in respect and thanks, and then slipped back out of the door, with a final last glance at Sasuke.

One eye opened lazily, and onyx met lilac. A silent, unspoken promise was passed — it seemed to her like the other had accepted the finality of his capture, the finality of his punishment. And Hinata herself had realised that this wasn't a onetime thing.

Even if she could not prove it to anyone else, she would prove to him that a kunoichi can be kind, as well as strong. She would visit him once every day, for the next fifty days, and she would make his last moments memorable.

His last memories would be as pure as the white rose she had bought earlier that would be untainted by the red of sin, of loneliness, of hatred.

She'd make them perfect.


	2. day o2

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **SasuHina, some NaruHina  
**beta'd: **17.09.2010, by SilveringBlue._  
_**chapter: **o**2**/5o

* * *

**notes**1**: **

Okay, so I _still _don't get to be the goddamn Batman, even if I say I am. Not cool, baby, not cool. D8

So, uh, I hope you're all enjoying Fifty Days; whether you're just checking it out now, or rereading for the lulz, or checking out the 2010 beta'd version - that sounds _so cool! _- then yeah. I just hope you're enjoying it.

- _briony_

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata blinked blearily, rubbing her eyes and stretching catlike in her bed. She yawned and blinked a few more times, blinking away the last of her dreams—the last of sleep—and grimaced slightly as someone flicked open her blinds. Sunlight streamed into her bedroom, splashing across her face, waking her up fully. The person who had roused her was turned into a silhouette by the bright light—her eyes widened as she realised that person was Neji.

She squeaked despite herself, clutching her blankets up to her chest as her cheeks flushed pale pink. "N—Neji! You didn't have to—you needn't wake me up every morning," she stammered, cursing her bed head and knowing she had that just woken up smell about her. "You could be lying in right now."

She doubted Neji had ever slept late in his entire life—already he was up and dressed, his dark brown hair tied loosely behind his back. He was wearing his uniform, the regal Hyuuga robes. They were as white as snowmaking his skin look almost deathly pale, and yet still handsome and noble—except for a black piece of material which hung around his waist. Despite the early hour, she noticed that he still had his headband tied around his forehead, hiding the tattoo which showed he was part of the branch clan. She wondered, briefly, if he was still so ashamed of it. She knew he shouldn't be. His face, with its high cheekbones, was stern—once, she had scolded him for constantly frowning. Now, however, as the time had passed, his face had become more relaxed to the point of being content.

He studied her face quickly, briefly, as he did every morning, checking to see if she were ill or hurt or if anything else was wrong; she wondered if it was because he was part of the branch clan, and therefore _had _to protect her, or if it was simple love for her.

She would have asked him, but she never had the courage.

"You should get dressed quickly, Hinata," he stated, his eyes flicking back to the window. "There is someone waiting to see you."

She'd have asked him who, but he didn't look like he was going to answer any questions. Instead, he spunon his heels, striding quickly towards the door, flicking on the light. He hesitated for a moment, before glancing back over his shoulder at her. "And…" He hesitated again, before his lips quirked into the smallest of smiles. "Hinata, it is hardly a chore waking you up in the morning. If I didn't, who would?"

Before she could reply, or even register his joke, he'd slipped out of the room and closed the door gently, but firmly, behind him. For a second, she remained sat completely still beneath her blankets—then her face cracked into a grin and she chuckled slightly to herself. She loved her cousin, and she always had, despite the fact that he had once scared her so terribly. Yet even at that time, she had felt more pity and sadness for him than fright; when she was younger, she used to pass his bedroom at night and hear the soft, heaving sobs.

She used to sway outside his door, summoning up the courage to step inside, to comfort him, to tell him that she would be there for him always, no matter what—but her stammer had been much worse then, and her nerves had been constantly frazzled, and it had taken her far too long to summon up that courage.

It had taken her sixteen years too long.

She realised now that she shouldn't have been so scared of him. She realised now that she could have halted his hatred, could have accepted him, could have made him smile, had she only been brave enough. Every single time she had gotten ready to knock on his door, she would realise that she could no longer hear the weeping and that he was surely asleep by now. And she would shake her head sadly and return to her room.

Hinata's smile turned almost sad for a moment—and then she remembered that someone was waiting for her and she scrambled across her bed, peering through the blinds. For a few seconds, she couldn't spot anyone—after all, she was looking for Kiba or Shino or (hopefully) Naruto—and then she saw Tsunade leaning against a tree, looking thunderous. She watched in bewilderment as Neji crossed over to meet her, murmuring something, and Tsunade snapped back at him.

Her eyes widened.

It couldn't be that the_ Hokage _was the person waiting for her, could it?

She figured that yes, it was extremely possible and very likely, because why else would she be stood across the road, looking impatient, and why else would Neji be trying his very hardest to calm her down?

Hinata practically flung herself off the bed, which resulted in her staggering towards her wardrobe, off balance. She pulled out some plain underwear and yanked on her navy shorts, complete with a navy vest, and then threw on her usual lilac jacket. She definitely had to be ready for anything, now that she'd kept the Hokage waiting, and she expected she'd probably needed for a mission—why else would the Hokage wish to talk to her? She dressed quickly, straightening her jacket as best as possible and brushing out any creases, then combed through her hair, gently easing out any knots. Finally, she scooped up her forehead protector, racing out of the door as quickly as possible.

Hanabi stepped out of the bathroom, brushing her teeth, and threw Hinata a bottle of perfume. "I heard the Hokage was waiting for you, sister. You need to wake up earlier."

"I know, Hanabi," she said, spraying her wrists and neck quickly, waiting as Hanabi returned from the bathroom again, this time carrying Hinata's toothbrush. "Thank you."

Hanabi rolled her eyes. "I don't know what you'd do without Neji and me—sometimes, you can be so unorganised, sister."

Hinata's cheeks flushed. "I'd be lost without you two."

"We know."

She smiled gratefully, passing her sister the toothbrush (who simply rolled her eyes again), and then continued along the corridor, sprinting down the stairs. She bowed her head as she passed her father, who simply gestured for her to hurry along, and then slipped out of the front door, just as Neji opened it. He stared at her, his gaze turning critical—she fidgeted slightly beneath his scrutinizing.

Then he reached out, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "You have toothpaste on your cheek, Hinata."

She blushed furiously.

He rubbed for a few more seconds before stepping back, obviously proud of his work—then he checked her over once again, before nodding slowly. "Have a nice day, Hinata," he murmured, stepping out of her way, so that she could pass him.

She bowed her head low, respectfully, before straightening and smiling—she noticed he stiffened, much as he always did whenever she bowed to him. "You too, N—Neji," she said, before turning and making a bee-line towards the fuming Hokage.

As Hinata approached, she studied her Hokage carefully. It wasn't often she'd seen Tsunade as mad as this, although the female Hokage _did _undoubtedly have a fiery temper; usually, she was only ever angered when someone complained about the amount of sake she drank. Since usually only Naruto or Shizune, or very rarely Sakura, dared to make this comment, Tsunade's explosions were infrequent. Now, though, Hinata wasn't at all sure what could have happened to make her Hokage this furious—it couldn't be her own lateness, as Kakashi was often late and that rarely bothered Tsunade.

Unless…

Hinata blanched. Had there been some rule against her visiting Uchiha Sasuke, yesterday? She hadn't heard one—at least, Tsunade hadn't mentioned any rules, other than the ones regarding Naruto and Sakura, when Hinata had been eavesdropping. Maybe she should have stayed for longer—maybe Tsunade had said something after her departure.

She neared the Hokage and stopped a respectful, and safe, distance away from her. Tsunade inspected her slowly, her anger barely concealed, mouth a thin line and eyes narrowed. Then she turned away, beckoning for Hinata to follow.

She did.

They walked in silence for a while, with Hinata just a few steps behind the older woman. Although Hinata had never actually seen her Hokage fight, she had heard that the woman's strength was unrivalled. In fact, Sakura's strength—which Hinata had seen on many an occasion—she knew to be only a fraction of Tsunade's full strength.

_That _thought was scary. She shuddered, and the small movement caught Tsunade's eye. The Hokage stopped, suddenly, and Hinata almost bumped into her; she managed to dodge around her just in time, however, skidding to the side and almost pirouetting. A small smile crept onto her face at the averted disaster—it seemed her Hyuuga training had come in handy, after all.

Her smile slid off her face as her eyes met Tsunade's. The two women stared at each other for a second, and then Tsunade sighed heavily, anger visibly draining from her.

"_Hinata_…"

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing again.

"Do you have any idea how much paperwork you've given me? The council want all access to Sasuke cut off from visitors—they're saying he's too hostile, too unpredictable, there are too many risks—and it's a reasonable point, after all. He's a dangerous criminal. In fifty days, he will be executed. There are far too many risks and we can't let him escape, not now…"

Hinata paled. "Lady Hokage, you _can't _be c—considering this!" she cried, forgetting herself for a moment, and Tsunade raised her eyebrow.

"I _have _to consider this. It's my job."

Hinata hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering across the street—she glanced at the villagers, laughing and joking, unaware of the prison on the outskirts of Konoha; unaware of the Uchiha within, lonely, forgotten; unaware of the pain they were causing heroes like Naruto—and she promptly dropped to her knees.

Tsunade's eyes widened.

"_Please_, Lady Hokage."

Her voice was steady and strong—she gazed at the ground beneath her, her hair shrouding her face, hiding her expression; but her emotions were clear in her voice. "Please, Lady Hokage," she repeated, finding her courage. "Let me visit Uchiha S—Sasuke for an hour each day, for fifty days—even if you c—cannot let anyone else visit him—even if the room has to be p—packed with ANBU—_please, _just let me _v—visit him!_"

The Hokage raised an eyebrow, crouching down in front of Hinata and reaching forwards—gently, but firmly, she tilted the younger woman's face upwards, so that she could gaze into the pale lilac eyes.

"Why? You barely knew the Uchiha. Why would you do something like this for him?"

Hinata looked away.

That was when Tsunade realised. "You overheard, didn't you? My conversation with Naruto and Sakura… You're not doing this for Sasuke; you're doing this for _Naruto. _You felt his pain and you tried to heal it in the only way you can—by making sure Uchiha Sasuke doesn't die a lonely death."

The Hokage straightened, gesturing for Hinata to do the same—she did so, staggering slightly, ashamed at how selfish her reasons were, waiting for Tsunade to shake her head—but the blonde woman said nothing, staring into the distance, looking dazed and preoccupied.

After a while, the silence was broken.

"You're a kind girl, Hinata. Naïve, but kind." Tsunade smiled wearily, rubbing her chin. "Very well. I'll fight for you when I go and see the council, later on. You've got a good head on your shoulders and you're an heiress—somehow, I doubt it will be hard to fight your case."

Hinata didn't bother correcting her.

She was too busy smiling.

**.**

**.**

After her (sort of) victory, Hinata decided she would treat herself to ramen. She had never really liked ramen, not even when she'd realised that Naruto adored the stuff. She had never really liked noodles in general and much preferred her sister's homemade cinnamon rolls. It had only been after her confession to Naruto that she'd started to eat the stuff.

The mere thought of ramen would make her remember—make her remember the courage she'd had to summon up, to say the three tiny words—make her remember the pain she'd felt, as she'd charged at Pein and then been swiped away so easily—make her remember the overwhelming shame she'd eventually felt, as she'd realised she was still as weak as before—make her remember the happiness she'd felt when she'd heard that her confession had evoked something in Naruto, something dark and deadly, but an emotion all the same—and then she would try her hardest to forget it all again.

Naruto had never really answered her confession. For a while, in fact, it seemed as though he had been avoiding her—and when she'd finally summoned up the courage to ask him for that date, he'd seemed so reluctant.

"He's probably saving himself for Sakura…" Hinata mumbled, frowning slightly, feeling bitter and anxious and hoping more than anything that they could rearrange that date.

"Who's saving himself for Sakura?"

Hinata squeaked, Hyuuga training kicking in once again (and at the wrong time, once again) as she (span) spun around to face the newcomer, finishing in a slight crouch, one palm extended, the other high above her head.

Kiba chuckled slightly, holding his hands up in surrender, and grinning, with Akamaru stood by his side. Hinata relaxed immediately, a furious blush returning to her cheeks—really now, who _else _would sneak up on her like that? She straightened, brushing down her jacket and feeling ridiculous. Kiba laughed again, before pointing at the ramen hut. "You heading this way?" he asked, tilting his head, his eyes lighting up playfully.

Hinata nodded.

"Don't mind if I join you then, right?" He said, and she shook her head—he laughed again, another sharp sound, much like barking, and then swung his arm around her shoulders lazily. "Akamaru and I just came back from a bounty mission—easy, really, had to be at least a B rank, but Tsunade wanted us to do it anyway, and it paid well."

They stepped into the Ichiraku Ramen Bar and Hinata found herself instantly holding her breath—Kiba must have felt her tense, because he snuck a glance at her, obviously hoping she hadn't noticed—and then she sighed, both disappointed and relieved, when she realised Naruto wasn't there. He was probably training, she decided.

Teuchi beamed at them as the two shinobi entered, and sat down, and, after a nod from Kiba, placed two bowls down in front of them. He frowned as Akamaru sat down next to Kiba, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, and failing due to his size. "This is a _restaurant_, Inuzuka, not a…" He trailed off, his voice strained. "Not a _vets!"_

Akamaru barked loudly before, after a hissed command from an irritated Kiba, he slunk back outside to sit in the sunshine in the front of the restaurant.

Hinata snapped her chopsticks apart and began chasing some noodles around the bowl. Kiba ate messily beside her and she wondered how long it would be before Teuchi started asking Kiba to sit outside as well.

"Have I missed much?" Kiba asked eventually, after slurping down the last of his noodles—he eyed Hinata's bowl hungrily and she passed it over gratefully, still not all that fond of ramen. "I mean, anything big happen while I was away?"

"Sasuke c—came back."

She waited. It normally took Kiba a little while to register ideas as huge as that one, seeing as he tended to like to keep things simple—he was intelligent, of course, but he believed the best plans were the simplest—and, when he finally realised what she'd said, he placed his chopsticks back onto the table and turned to her. His expression was carefully blank.

"By 'came back', you mean he was caught, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Was it Naruto?" he asked eventually, his eyes widening when she shook her head. "_Really? _Sasuke was just… _caught?_"

"As far as we know."

Kiba leaned back in his chair and whistled appreciatively, the surprise evident on his face—and then the surprise turned to annoyance. "You mean, we spent all that time tracking and chasing that sonovabitch, and he was just _caught_ by some freaking ANBU?"

She wasn't really that surprised to hear the anger and irritation in his voice—she was certain that was how Naruto had felt. All those promises and none of them had really come to anything.

"_That _was all it took?"

She nodded.

"Naruto…" Kiba trailed off, before laughing bitterly. "I bet he was pissed off—he spent so long chasing after the Uchiha—spent so long getting _stronger _and _better_—and he was beaten to his prize by a couple of ANBU."

There wasn't much else she could do except nod again.

"D'you know what's happening to him?" he asked, peering at her sideways, watching her, waiting for her response.

"As far as I know, he's b—being held down at the prison," Hinata mumbled, unsure of whether or not the fact that Sasuke was going to be executed was known yet; she decided she wouldn't say, just in case no one was supposed to know. "I don't know much more than that."

Kiba whistled again and they sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the bowls of ramen untouched in front of them. Teuchi picked them up, one empty, one half-full, and took them away, but Hinata barely noticed them go. Kiba was too busy staring vacantly at the ceiling to notice anything.

"Have you been to see Shino yet?" Hinata asked finally.

"Huh?" Kiba blinked, obviously startled by her question, and she waited a few seconds before repeating it. He ran his hands through his hair, flashing his usual cocky grin. "Yeah, I'd better do that quickly, otherwise he'll just get annoyed."

Kiba straightened, reaching into his pocket and then placing a few coins down on the counter—Teuchi scooped them up, murmuring his thanks, and Hinata found herself blushing. "K—Kiba, I could have paid for mine," she mumbled, and he just grinned. "B—but thanks, anyway."

"It's no problem," he ruffled her hair, his grin widening when she squeaked and batted his hand gently away. He backed out of the bar, whistling for Akamaru, and then waved once at her. "See you around, Hinata!"

"Have a good day, Kiba," she called back.

"I'll try."

**.**

**.**

Hinata stopped into the flower shop before visiting Sasuke, deciding she'd buy a couple of flowers to brighten up the room—it had been so cold and unwelcoming in there. Ino waved to her as she walked inside.

"Back again so soon, Hinata?" the blonde girl asked, leaning over the counter and pointing in the direction of the roses. "Do you want a couple more of those, or something different?"

"(N—)Neji isn't feeling so well," Hinata lied, easily, fluently. "I need some flowers which will b—brighten up his day."

Ino's face darkened at the mention of her cousin—who had been, so far, one of the only two men not to fall for the blonde's seductions (the other being Sasuke)—and then she smiled, the sympathy clear on her face, as she walked out from behind the counter. She patted her hands down on her pale green apron, before scooping up a few blue flowers, and a couple of yellow roses. She walked away from Hinata, lying the flowers down on the counter, and then beckoned for the Hyuuga to follow.

Hinata walked over, her hands clasped in front of her, standing in front of the other girl, as Ino began arranging and cutting and chopping and changing. There were ten flowers in total—five yellow roses, fresh and bright, and five other flowers, which were a deep, rich blue. She recognised the latter as irises from her flower pressing kit.

"The irises are pretty common," Ino admitted, wrapping the flowers up in silver paper. "But they're nice and bright and, depending on the situation, they can mean practically anything. Blue is the perfect choice for a kind of 'get well soon' message, or sympathy, which I'm sure you feel for your cousin."

Hinata nodded.

"A typical red rose would signal love," Ino continued, "but the yellow roses are more of a friendship thing. They make you feel all sunny and bright inside, if you get what I'm saying—I figured your cousin could use a few sunny feelings. The blue and the yellow colours are both pretty bright as well and they contrast nicely. I guarantee they'll brighten your cousin's day in no time at all."

Hinata nodded again, before asking, "Do you have any v—vases? We don't have many at home, and I'd like these to last a while."

"Wait just one second!" Ino grinned, holding up her index finger and then hurrying away into the backroom. For a second, there was silence—then there was a smash and a yelp, followed quickly by a curse, and then a dishevelled Ino darted back in, clutching a clear vase. "Here you go," she grunted, passing the vase over to Hinata and then glancing at the backroom. "I'd better clear that up…"

Hinata left Ino to her tidying, placing a few coins down on the counter, adamantly insisting that she couldn't just take another few flowers _and _a vase for free, and then hurried down the street, heading towards the Main Gates and therefore towards Konoha's prison.

**.**

**.**

Ibiki raised an eyebrow. "When Lady Tsunade said to prepare the Uchiha's prison for visitors, I didn't expect to see you again," he stated bluntly, and Hinata fidgeted under his gaze. He gestured at the flowers. "What are those for?"

"They're for S—Sasuke."

"He doesn't deserve them." Ibiki snapped, before letting his features soften. "I'm going to have to search them, just to check."

Hinata handed them over.

It didn't take long for Ibiki to realise that he'd never have to expect any trouble from someone like Hinata—she was far too nice for any of that nonsense. In fact, he'd thought she was far too nice to fall in love with a traitor like Uchiha Sasuke.

He didn't realise how wrong he was.

"You're far too kind, Hinata."

She shrugged one shoulder, obviously embarrassed. Was that _shame _he detected in her eyes? How curious.

"He doesn't deserve any visitors."

"You s—said that before, Ibiki."

"I'll keep saying it too."

Hinata fell silent and he sighed, handing her back the flowers. Fine. If she wanted to get mixed up with someone like Sasuke, then he could hardly stop her, no matter how much he wanted to. And Lady Tsunade had forbidden him to tell anyone that the Uchiha was receiving visitors, most of all that loud-mouthed blonde kid, Uzumaki Naruto.

He gestured for her to follow him and they walked steadily across the bridge, her with her flowers and him with his frown.

**.**

**.**

"You've got a visitor, Uchiha, _again,"_ Ibiki snapped, rapping his knuckles on the glass and, just like the day before, Sasuke made no effort to look up. After all, he already knew who it was, so why should he? "Try to be nice."

There was the sound of chair legs scraping gently across the ground—a chink of glass as she placed something down on the table they'd put there earlier—a rustle of paper as she unwrapped something—and then there were two pairs of footsteps, as the ANBU guards moved forwards. Ibiki sighed loudly. "Don't bother—it's already been checked." And then the door swung shut, and Ibiki left.

"You're back again," the female ANBU stated blankly. "Why?"

"I p—promised."

Sasuke's lips twitched into an unseen smile, although there was no joy in it—it was sad and bitter and angry and frustrated, and definitely not happy, no, not at all—before looking upwards. His eyes met Hinata's straight away and they looked at each other for a long time. Finally, Sasuke allowed curiosity to get the better of him, and his eyes flickered towards the package he'd heard her unwrapping beforehand.

He arched an eyebrow, gazing at the vase and the blue and yellow flowers, and then his gaze snapped back to Hinata.

"Flowers."

To be truthful, he'd been expecting anything except flowers—maybe food for herself and a drink, or something for her to read, but definitely not flowers. She nodded firmly, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Flowers," he stated again, and then he smirked—it was the kind of smirk that would have come off arrogant and mocking beforehand. Now, with his chakra drained and his body drugged, it seemed lopsided.

Hinata nodded again, pushing them forwards—and that distracted him. He found himself staring at them, almost transfixed, and he decided that the drugs were ridiculously effective. Sasuke had never really liked flowers—useless, girly things, and how would they ever help him in life?—but looking at them now, it was as though they were the only things that mattered. They were a small part of the world outside his prison. They were a small part of his old life.

He wondered if Hinata realised that.

He glanced back at her, looking into her eyes and, after a moments consideration, he realised she did—she knew exactly what the flowers meant to him.

"They're from I—Ino's flower shop," she said finally, reaching into the vase and picking up a yellow flower and a blue flower—she showed him the blue flower first. "These ones are irises; she said they symbolise s—sympathy," and then she thrust the yellow flower at him. "And these ones are roses; yellow roses mean f—friendship, but r—red roses mean love."

He titled his head slightly. "How fitting."

"We used to g—grow roses," Hinata mumbled, her cheeks tinged pink. "Red roses and they used t—to climb all the way up my wall. They were wonderful; _beautiful._ Then my f—father said they were a n—nuisance and Neji had to go out and chop them down. I begged my father not to; I said they were too beautiful to be d—destroyed; but he told N—Neji to go ahead anyway. After he'd chopped them down, Neji came to my bedroom with two red roses and a book; he told me I s—should hold onto the t—things I love most, for fear they get torn down. I put the roses inside the book and I took up flower pressing."

She fell silent, turning the yellow rose over in her hands, letting the blue iris drift to the floor—behind her, the two ANBU exchanged glances, but otherwise remained silent. Sasuke gazed at the iris for a moment, forgotten in favour for the rose, and then his eyes flickered back to Hinata.

He hesitated before finally speaking, and when he did his voice was unnaturally strained.

"My…"

She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised, obviously interested.

"…My family didn't grow flowers. My father thought they were useless. My mother thought they took up too much time. My brother… he didn't really care much about anything. And because he didn't have an opinion, I didn't care for flowers either."

He froze, a curious expression on his face—almost homesickness, but also bewildered, as though he had no clue where the words were coming from or why he was speaking. _The drugs, _his mind whispered—and he decided that he'd simply blame everything on those dreaded drugs.

"My mother was a practical woman. In our garden, instead of flowers, she grew vegetables. She grew carrots and lettuce and cucumber and… _tomatoes. _Whenever I saw flowers, I would scoff. I thought they were silly—they were _vain_—the people who grew them were vainer still. Look at these flowers, I thought, what are they useful for? I'd choose my tomatoes over them any day. But…"

His voice became strangled.

"…After… After _it _happened, when I went back to my home for the first time, the vegetable patch was burnt to the ground. There was nothing left. But someone… someone had planted a rose there—it was blood red and I thought… I thought…"

He stopped.

What had he thought?

At the time, he'd cried at the injustice of it all—he'd been so angry. His mother had spent years on her beloved vegetable patch and then someone, some _idiot, _had planted a dirty rose there, in its place. He'd hated that rose. But his hatred had never stopped him from coming back day after day, nurturing it, until eventually there was the smallest rose bush. He'd laughed at the irony of it all—his poor flower-hating parents would be turning in their graves if he knew he was respecting their memory by planting a flower over their vegetable patch. And then his hatred and his anger and the bitter irony had turned into wistful memories—that rose bush reminded him of his mother's smile, of his father's pride, of his admiration for his brother.

But he couldn't say all of that—he couldn't find the words to say it, or the guts, or the nerve—and so he just looked straight into Hinata's eyes and tried his hardest to convey all the feelings.

She smiled.

"I—understand."

The conversation ended after that. Sasuke felt ashamed of himself for revealing such a weakness, with others in the room. Hinata's sympathy for him was obvious. He could feel the two ANBU members' surprise, mingled with their disdain and pity. Pathetic.

He was pathetic.

He closed his eyes and he didn't say another word. The ANBU murmured something quietly to Hinata and he heard her chair scrape backwards as she stood up. She moved silently across the floor, reminding him that she _was _a kunoichi, and then paused just outside the door. "I'll come and see you again tomorrow, S—Sasuke," she said, and he knew that she was smiling.

"Hn."

"Goodbye."

The door clicked shut. Sasuke waited for a moment, before opening his eyes. His gaze fell to the single blue iris, still lying on the floor, still forgotten, and then flickered towards the yellow rose. Friendship and sympathy, huh?

His lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Fifty days, then. She was going to visit him for fifty days. How… _kind _of her.

He doubted he deserved it.

**.**

**.**

As Hinata left, Ibiki caught her sleeve, tugging her around to face him. His eyes were gentle and yet still stern and, despite the gentleness, he still terrified her. He opened his mouth to say something, stopped, and then sighed.

"He doesn't deserve it."

"I know."

"He isn't worth it."

She didn't respond.

Ibiki scowled, looking at her hard. "…You're not going to rethink this decision, then?" he asked finally, his voice strangled and strained.

She shook her head.

"…Fine," Ibiki let go of her sleeve. "Lady Tsunade stopped by with a message for you. She said that the council has okayed this. You're allowed to visit Uchiha Sasuke—I can't stop you. The only condition is that you refrain from telling anyone else. Do not tell your family, your friends, and _definitely_ do not tell Uzumaki Naruto. Understand?"

"Thank you, I—Ibiki."

He merely waved her away in response.

**.**

**.**

It was awful.

She had not expected the ruins of the Uchiha clan's legacy to be this terrible. All of the houses—every single little thing—had been burnt to the ground. Not too far away, she spotted a rusted blade, moss growing on the handle; the bodies, of course, were long gone. The third Hokage had said that no one was to build over the ashes, in respect for those who had died there. More than anything, it was sad—_lonely. _

She stepped over a broken piece of wood, a slate from a roof, a piece of glass, trudging gingerly through the wreck, searching for something.

Searching for a rose bush.

Eventually, she found it. It wasn't that hard—the bush was the only thing still standing. Vivid red and green, in perfect contrast with the black and grey around it. It was the only colour for miles around.

She reached towards the bush, gently fingering one rose—stroking the blood red petals—and she was struck by the sadness of it all. She reached for a kunai and carefully, oh so carefully, cut one rose away from the bunch. Then she took it home and placed it in jar filled midway with water, beside her bed.

That night, she found herself lying awake, thinking.

His eyes, when he'd spoken of that rose bush… The emotions had been so real and so contrasting; they'd been hurt and scared and sad and lonely; but there had been the oddest fondness hidden deep within them, trying its hardest to shine through.

That night, she found herself lying awake, thinking of the one person she had never really thought of before.

She found herself thinking of Uchiha Sasuke.


	3. day o3

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **SasuHina, some NaruHina  
**beta'd by: **SilveringBlue, 24.09.2010  
**chapter: **o**3**/5o

* * *

**notes**1**: **

Okay, so I'm steadily getting all of these chapters beta'd and edited, which is pretty awesome. I have pretty much nothing else to say. Check out Masquerade, maybe?

:)

-_briony_

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata didn't like mess. She was a tidy person. Oh, just like everybody else in the world, she _was _human; there were a few books stacked haphazardly next to her wardrobe, a discarded kimono she'd only ever worn once crumpled under her bed; but other than those occasional objects, scattered here and there across the room, her bedroom was completely tidy. It took a lot to get Hinata to mess up her bedroom, as well. This was mostly because she was naturally neat, and she didn't much enjoy tidying up the mess afterwards. Every now and then, she would walk around the room picking up whatever lay on the floor and returning it to its rightful place. But her room never really got truly untidy.

However, she knew she would have to do a major tidy up after this. She was lying half underneath her bed, the rest of her bedroom in complete shambles. Every single book she owned was lying scattered around the room, her bed covers had been balled up and thrown into a corner, almost everything in her wardrobe was lying in crumpled piles around the room, and she'd pushed every single thing of her bedside table, except the glass vase and the rose. She was searching for something.

She was searching for a little black book, with her name written on it in Neji's beautiful, cursive writing. She'd always loved his handwriting. It seemed to flow across the page, neat and elegant, with huge loops for the curl of the y; and when she'd seen he'd written her name, in gold pen, she'd been overjoyed.

"Where _is_ it?"

She tugged herself out from underneath her bed — that search had been fruitless, she decided, because there was nothing under there except a kimono and a blue teddy she'd won from a fair once. She staggered to her feet and straightened, dusting herself down. She tugged at the corners of her lilac kimono, her fingers tracing briefly over the gold detail, before pulling at the equally gold sash gingerly, attempting to loosen it — and then peered at the disarray.

She definitely couldn't see her book anywhere.

There was a knock upon the door, soft and gentle, and she froze, staring at the mess around her. That was definitely Neji and he'd want to know what she was looking for and then he'd raise his eyebrow and stare coldly at her when he found out she'd lost it. She pinched the bridge of her nose anxiously, before stepping gingerly across the mess and opening the door, peering out at the person stood there.

Sure enough, there stood her cousin, dressed casually this time. He wore a deep red kimono with pure white finery, and an equally white sash tied firmly around his waist. His hair was pinned back in a bun, although the odd strand swung into his eyes, and he wore a white strip of fabric around his forehead, covering the branch clan tattoo. He was beautiful; elegant and regal and everything Hinata was _not._

"I heard noises," Neji murmured finally, glancing past Hinata. She watched as his eyes scanned the mess, paying attention to every single detail, before flicking back to her. "What are you looking for?"

"I w—was looking for my flower pressing book."

Neji quirked his head, pursing his lips tightly. For a second, he didn't say anything and just stared at her, his eyes searching her face; and she felt her cheeks grow hot as she became rapidly more and more flustered. Finally, her cousin moved forwards, stepping past her, and she shrank back into her jacket, all hot under the collar and embarrassed; oh man, Neji was going to be so annoyed that she'd lost his present to her, but she'd looked after it for so long(,)-she was bound to misplace it sometime.

He stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by the mess of her bedroom, and she was struck by how noble he looked. He _deserved _to be the Hyuuga heir. He looked the part, that was for sure, with his intelligent eyes and his stern features. And he was a genius as well, considered to be a child prodigy by even the greatest shinobi. He was dangerous and deadly, but he could also be so kind and considerate — and now, after finally choosing his own destiny, he had become a strong leader and a stronger teammate.

She was _proud_ of him — she was _happy_ for him.

The main clan owed this much to him. It was only fair that he was the heir; that, when the time came, he would take over the position as leader and make things right. He could do it, as well, and she was sure that he _would _do it. With Hanabi as his guide, and Hinata supporting him as best she could, he could do _anything._

Neji dropped down onto his knees, rolled up his kimono sleeves, and began sorting through the piles of books, picking through the disarray with deadly precision, choosing a book and then replacing it in its original place — and, for a second, Hinata wasn't sure what to do.

She snapped out of her half-trance, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. "N—Neji! What are you _doing?_" she squeaked, before rushing over to him. "Your—your _kimono!_ It'll get dusty; I can take care of this mess myself, please don't w—worry—"

"—I _want _to, Hinata."

He glanced up at her, casually, but she could see the sincerity on his face and so she dropped to her knees as well, slowly and carefully sifting through the mess, replacing the objects once she was finished. They worked silently together, efficiently picking up object after object and then replacing them; every now and then, Neji would ask her where he should put a book or a jar, and she would inform him, stuttering and blushing and feeling awful that he was helping her tidy up a mess she'd made just minutes earlier.

Neji stood up, moving over to her drawers, gingerly opening the first and then shutting it just as quickly — he glanced at her apologetically, and she tried her hardest not to giggle; trust Neji to be frightened by an underwear drawer, of all things. He pulled open the second, sifted carefully through the contents, and then gently pulled out a book.

She beamed at him and he walked back over to her and sat down next to her, his back leaning against her bed, holding the book carefully in his hands, as though it were made of gold. He crossed his legs, placing the book in his lap, and she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. They sat together silently as Neji carefully flipped through the pages.

On the first page were the two roses that had started it all. The first lay there with rich red petals, velvety to touch; it was still as majestic and proud as it had been the day Neji had given it to her. The second, however, lay sadly upon the page with wilted, dull petals and curling leaves.

"It's sad, isn't it?" she mumbled, reaching out to gently stroke the second rose. "This rose used to be so beautiful. I used to sit and r—read my books underneath it, among all the others, and I used to marvel at how wonderful they w—were. But now… now, it's just sad."

Her eyebrows creased together as her fingers felt the folds of the petal — then Neji's fingers brushed against hers as he stroked the leaves) and she blinked, startled out of her thoughts. Almost immediately, colour flushed to her cheeks — Neji would think she was so naïve and laugh at her for saying such stupid things.

"Beauty fades, Hinata," Neji said finally. "It will happen to the best of us. Events take place that we are not ready for — and, if we cannot change, our beauty shall fade. Some of us simply aren't ready for it. It will happen to all of us, eventually, some quicker than others — but, one day, we will end up as tragic as this rose.

Hinata could not imagine Neji ever becoming as sorrowful as that rose — he was too _beautiful_, she decided, to ever fade away. He could not wilt; she would not _let_ him. But his words reminded her of someone — of someone with lonely eyes and a lonelier smile — she found herself reminded of Uchiha Sasuke. After a few minutes longer, she realised that her cousin was watching her carefully, noticing the way her eyes had glazed over slightly and the sad, vacant look on her face. He noticed it all, noting it down in his mind, to be pondered over for the next few days until he found out what had caused her to look like that.

But, for now, he simply closed the little black book, gazing at his handwriting — her name — on the cover, and then handed it over to her. He stood up, pulling himself to his feet with a grace that Hinata felt she would never be able to achieve. He stared down at her, before offering his hand — she took it, mumbling her thanks, and allowed him to pull her gently to her feet. She placed her flower pressing book gently onto her bedside table, resting it beside the vase with the single red rose, and then turned to her cousin.

He was already making his way towards her bedroom door.

"Neji!"

He stopped quickly, tilting his head and peering at her over his shoulder — she fidgeted slightly, pressing her fingers together, gazing at her feet; and then, finally, she looked up, her face flushed, and smiled nervously at him.

"T—Thank you."

A smile fluttered across his face, as beautiful as a butterfly — a proper, wonderful, _true _smile — and then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. He nodded jerkily, raising his hand to bid her goodbye. "It was no problem at all, Hinata." And then he slipped out of the door and disappeared down the corridor.

Hanabi raised her eyebrow at her cousin, as he passed. "…Why didn't you just use the byakugan, Neji? You'd have found that little book quicker, wouldn't you?"

Neji simply chuckled and continued on his way.

Back in her bedroom, Hinata waited for a moment, before turning back to her bedside table — she picked up the black book, opening it carefully at the back page. Then she reached into her drawer, scooping up a few tissues, and tenderly picked up the single red rose — the colours had dulled fractionally since she'd picked it, but she decided she didn't care. She began to wipe the leaves and the stem, tugging off any curled or blackened leaves, then began to gently wipe down the petals, taking extra care with them; it took her a while, but she felt content as she went about her business. So _peaceful._

She loved flowers, but not in the same way as Ino. Ino enjoyed arranging the flowers, bringing out their beauty in a way that would only make them lovely for a small amount of time. Once the flowers left Ino's capable hands everything went downhill; they soon became mixed up and the leaves curled. They were given too much water, or too little.

Hinata, however, enjoyed preserving their beauty. By pressing the flowers, she was capturing their beauty forever, trapped between the pages of a book, where she could gaze at them and remember all the memories they held. She was willing to admit that sometimes it didn't always work — occasionally, her precious flowers wilted and died, even after she had pressed them — but usually they remained beautiful.

She pulled a piece of blank paper out of her third drawer and ripped it directly in half, placing it between the last two pages and then placed the rose gently down upon the paper. She took a moment to rearrange it; turning the flower head to face her so that, when it was pressed, she'd be able to see all of the detail, all of its beauty. Hinata moved the leaves, cut the bottom off the stem, tugged off a rotten leaf, then wandered away and returned, carrying three large books.

Then she closed the back page of her little black book, pressing down with the flat of her hands for a while before placing the three books on top of her smaller book. She adjusted them, making sure that they were balanced, before stepping backwards and beaming, her face flushed with triumph.

Hinata would capture the beauty of Sasuke's rose forever.

**.**

**.**

"You will visit Uchiha Sasuke for precisely an hour each day. You are allowed to bring objects onto the prison premises, within reason, under the strict rule that you allow each object to be searched for hidden weapons, poisons, etcetera, etcetera… You will not purposefully inform Uchiha Sasuke of any decisions we have made concerning his fate. You will not inform Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura or any other shinobi living in Konoha or anywhere else, that you are visiting Uchiha Sasuke. Understand?"

Hinata nodded, biting her bottom lip as the Hokage gazed directly at her. Finally, she found her voice. "Y—Yes."

"Do you have any questions?" Tsunade asked, linking her hands together and leaning forwards, staring at the younger girl and making Hinata feel quite uncomfortable indeed.

"N—No."

"If you have any questions or requests at all, please tell me directly — even Shizune does not know that the Uchiha is receiving visitors."

"Of course, Lady Tsunade," Hinata murmured, bowing her head low in respect and then turning, moving towards the office door.

"And Hinata…?"

She slowed to a halt, turning to face her Hokage only to find the blonde woman standing up, her hands clasped behind her back, gazing out over her village. She waited patiently, giving the older woman time to gather her thoughts, until finally the Hokage spoke.

"You don't have to do this. You can back out at any moment, and no one will think badly of you. Just remember that."

She nodded sadly.

"I will."

Tsunade's mouth twitched into a smile filled with bitter, mocking amusement. "But you won't do it, though, will you? Not a nice girl like you."

Hinata said nothing.

"Close the door on your way out."

**.**

**.**

"_Hinata!"_

Hinata turned slowly at the sound of her name, the groceries in her bag banging against the side of her leg, wondering who on earth could be calling her so urgently — and there, stood beside a restaurant which specialized in BBQ food, stood Ino, waving wildly with one hand, the other arm looped around a yawning Shikamaru. The blonde beamed at her, gesturing for her to hurry over, and Hinata did so, albeit extremely reluctantly; the shopping in her hand weighed far too much and she'd promised her father that she would be home in time to cook dinner.

"That's a beautiful kimono; I have one just like it, except it's pink and my mother made it for me. How's your cousin, by the way?" Ino asked, and, for a second, Hinata had no idea what she was talking about; in fact, she immediately began to worry, as she hadn't heard that anything was wrong with Neji.

Hinata's eyes widened a fraction as she remembered the lie she'd told yesterday — "_Neji isn't feeling so well—I need some flowers which will b—brighten up his day."_ She forced herself to smile, suddenly feeling exhausted; why hadn't she said the flowers were for herself? Eventually, Ino was bound to ask Neji how he was feeling, and Neji would know she was keeping something from him and Hinata would feel obliged to tell him.

"Oh, he's fine, Ino."

Ino clapped her hands, "How did he like the flowers?"

Her thoughts flickered to Sasuke — the way he'd gazed at the flowers as if transfixed; the way the flowers had unlocked beautifully tragic memories, and the look of surprise on his face as he'd spoken to her — and she smiled.

"I'm not too sure, but I think he liked them." She paused thoughtfully. "I think he thought they were b—beautiful."

Ino's eyes widened and she gaped for a second, before laughing merrily. "Yeah, good one, Hinata, but I doubt Neji would ever say anything as corny as that. He's just too into that tall, dark and handsome thing to ever be _romantic. _I'm not as stupid as to believe a complete lie like that one." She flapped her hands airily, nudging her teammate. "Right, Shikamaru?"

He wasn't listening. He was busy considering Hinata, his head tilted thoughtfully as though he were seeing her for the first time. Ino narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips tightly, and then promptly pinched his arm. He winced, letting out a hiss of pain, and shifted away from Ino, rubbing his arm lazily.

"…What was that for?"

"You were staring," Ino snapped, placing her hands on her hips and scowling, and Hinata (had to admit) thought privately that the blonde girl in a bad mood was possibly the scariest thing she had ever seen. "That's _rude, _Shikamaru—_apologize _to Hinata."

The lazy shinobi raised his eyebrow, regarding his teammate as if she were highly insane; the blonde waggled her nails in response and he heaved a sigh. "…troublesome woman…" he mumbled, scratching the back of his head idly and turning towards Hinata — he was surprised to see the young Hyuuga backing steadily away, fidgeting and tugging at her jacket and looking anywhere but at him.

Or, more precisely, anywhere but at _Ino._

The blonde could barely contain her anger. Her eyes were narrowed and her lip curled slightly and she squeezed her fists unconsciously, reaching forwards towards her teammate — and Hinata knew she was angry. _Very _angry.

"_Troublesome_ woman?"she hissed, and she was so close to punching her lazy, good-for-nothing teammate, except she was a _lady _and ladies didn't punch possible suitors, something which her good friend Sakura should've probably learnt by now, but it was oh so _tempting! _"Who are _you _calling a troublesome woman?"

Hinata didn't wait to hear Shikamaru's response; the man might have been a tactical genius, but when it came to understanding his blonde teammate, his IQ plummeted down into mere double digits. Instead, she continued backing away, one hand clutching her shopping bag, fully aware of the fact that she had to get home and cook dinner quickly. She still needed to visit Sasuke, and she unfortunately couldn't afford to stay and talk to her friends, as much as she wanted to. Finally, she turned around, waving as she did so.

"G—Goodbye, Shikamaru, Ino! Have a nice evening!"

And with that, she broke into a run, her bag swinging into the side of her leg in rhythm with her movements. She was going to be late, she just knew it, and her father would be so disappointed — he'd gaze at her in disdain, just as he always did, and he'd wrinkle his nose and his knuckles would turn white, and he'd think, 'that's my daughter. That _failure _is my own flesh and blood.' And, oh, she just didn't want to let him down anymore.

She arrived late.

Her father was stood by the door, his arms folded, his face stern. Hinata felt her breath hitch in her throat and her heart had missed a beat. He certainly looked the part of the clan leader, that was for sure, in his midnight blue kimono, with its gold finery and stitches. She could just see the hilt of his sword, swinging loosely by his waist.

She slowed to a halt in front of him, clasping the bag in front of her and bowing her head in respect. They stood like that for a moment, and she felt herself break out into a sweat; she could feel him staring at her and it was as if his eyes simply looked straight through her — she was his glass daughter, so fragile, so breakable, she'd never be a powerful kunoichi, oh no, she was not fit to be the clan leader, that glass kunoichi — and her head began to pound.

At first, her father had bravely fought her case. "She will make a fine leader," he had said, and now she realised he'd only said it because he hadn't wanted to admit the truth. "She has a good head on her shoulders. In time, she will become a powerful kunoichi. She will lead the next generation."

The clan elders had voiced their disbelief. "She is weak. She stutters when she speaks. She is a joke. She is a failure. Her scores are lower than Hyuuga Neji's, and he is a member of the _branch clan. _She cannot lead us. She is a woman. She is insecure. She has no confidence. She is unsuited for leadership — she can only be_ led_."

Her father had attempted to stay strong. One night, just after she'd passed the Chuunin exam, she'd crept downstairs for a glass of water — one of the clan elders had been sat in her front room, with her father. She'd stood beside the door, her back against the wall, listening with bated breath.

"Hiashi," the elder had said, his voice kind and gentle and unmistakably fake, "We understand, we truly do — she is your daughter. Her mother is — _was — _a wonderful kunoichi; brave and strong and intelligent. Had your daughter been like her, she would have been a perfect leader — if only she'd been more like you. She is too kind and too feeble for the position. We cannot accept her; in fact, we have a list of more suitable candidates, among them being your nephew and your second daughter. Do you agree?"

There had been silence.

Finally, she'd heard a chair creak — footsteps had paced across the room — a cabinet door had swung open. There was the chink of glass as it was placed upon a wooden surface; and then the trickle of water being steadily poured into the glass. In her mind's eye, she could picture the amber liquid as it poured out of the bottle. Her father very rarely drank — he only ever did so if he was stressed or… _sad._

She listened as his footsteps crossed back to his chair imagining his head tipping back, his expression blank. Then, after a while, she heard the chink of ice falling back into a glass. He'd downed the drink in one. Her eyes had widened and she'd sunk to her knees, her back against the wall, one thought on her mind.

Her father never drank so quickly.

The clan elder cleared his throat again. "Do you agree, Hiashi?"

For what seemed like an hour, there was nothing but silence. Hinata had felt the tears trickling down her cheeks, hot and useless, and she'd cursed her weakness. She'd already known what was coming.

"She is pathetic."

Her father's voice had been clear and strong, and there had been no evidence of sadness or pain in his voice. He'd said it so easily, as though it were nothing — as though _she _were nothing. She gasped in air, sobbing quietly, and then quickly pressed her fist against her mouth. She was certain her father had heard her.

"She is a failure."

He had continued anyway. The elder attempted to say something, but Hiashi had raised his hand, effectively shutting him up — Hinata had sensed the tense silence, and she too had quieted down, raising her head and straining to hear.

"She is no daughter of mine."

Her sobbing had increased tenfold then — she'd been unable to stop it. She'd pulled her legs up to her chest, her body shaking and trembling, the tears dripping down onto her silk nightie, and she'd suddenly been so aware of the bitter, unfriendly cold. The clan elder had obviously heard her — as he hurried out of the door, his eyes strayed towards her, showing nothing but pity, and then he'd turned away, scooping up his coat as he did so.

She'd urged herself to move, before her father appeared — if he caught her wailing, he'd certainly believe she was nothing but a weak liability — and, yet, she couldn't bring herself to move. Maybe she just wanted to see her father's face, look into his eyes, and see if he was lying, see if it was just a cruel joke.

He stepped through the doorway and paused there; she'd attempted to muffle her sobs, pressing her palms so forcefully against her mouth that she was certain she'd have bruises from her fingers later. She looked up at him, hopefully. For a while, he stayed where he was, looking directly forwards — and then he turned his head and gazed at her.

Her breathing caught in her throat.

Although his expression was blank, his eyes were filled with nothing but contempt. They were enraged. They were furious. They were ashamed. And, hidden amongst it all was disappointment. Burning, aching disappointment.

"…Go to bed, _girl._"

She had cringed away from him, as if he'd burnt her — he didn't even want to say her name — and he'd turned away, scooping up his coat and leaving the building. She'd stayed where she was for the entire night, sobbing and sobbing; she'd woken up to find a blanket tossed over her and Neji sat by her side, staring at the wall opposite them. She'd rubbed her tear stained cheeks. He'd said nothing.

They'd sat together for a while, until finally he spoke up.

"For what it's worth, Hinata, I think you'd have been a great leader."

Her bottom lip had trembled as she'd forced herself to smile — and then she'd burst into heaving, ugly tears, managing to stop herself from throwing her arms around her cousin. He'd sat silently for a second, uncomfortable and unsure, and then he'd stroked her hair softly, just a couple of times, until she finally stopped.

As she gazed at her father now, and as the memories came flooding back to her, she felt her bottom lip quiver and her eyes grew hot. She clutched the shopping bag more tightly, thankful of her hair acting as a curtain, shielding her expression from him.

"You are late," he stated coldly. "What were you doing?"

"S—Some friends wished to speak to me, f—father," Even as she said it, she wished she hadn't. Father. She had not called him that word in a long time. It seemed the memories had made her slip up.

He raised his eyebrow. "You are selfish. Did you not promise to arrive here early, so that you could prepare the dinner, for once?"

She did not dare suggest that that was why he insisted on employing servants—he simply complained about her food, anyway. Instead, she nodded jerkily, still gazing at the floor. "Yes, s—sir," that was better. She would not slip up again. "I shall begin cooking s—straight away."

He nodded sharply, moving aside so that she could pass him — as she hurried by, she bowed her head respectfully, for the second time, and then continued quickly on our way. Just as she was about to turn the corner, and head towards the kitchen, he called her name, surprising her and filling her with dreadful, pathetic, hope.

"Hinata."

She turned quickly, ducking her head again, and she heard his long, heaving sigh before she straightened, shuddering faintly at his blank expression.

"Lose the stutter. It's pitiful."

She wondered, briefly, if he lived to make her feel miserable and pathetic. Yet, still she nodded sadly, jerkily, fighting back the tears which threatened to spill over and calling herself every name she knew on the planet.

She watched her father until he disappeared around the corner, before busying herself in the kitchen, attempting to distract herself. She crouched down, disheartened, pulling out a couple of onions; she peeled them slowly, carefully, knowing that no matter how quick she was, she still would not satisfy her father. Hinata heard footsteps behind her, as she tugged a chopping knife out of the kitchen drawer. She began to chop the onions, trying to be as precise as possible, all the while listening as the footsteps neared.

She felt the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks and cursed herself softly, underneath her breath.

"Hinata…?" It was Hanabi. Her younger sister walked forwards slowly and Hinata felt her hand against her arm, gently brushing her skin, before her sisters face appeared in her line of vision. "Why are you crying?"

"I—It's the onions, H—H—Hanabi."

Her younger sister raised an eyebrow coolly, smiling faintly, though the smile didn't extend to her eyes. "Sister… You're lying. I can see right through you, y'know?"

The glass kunoichi.

Hinata laughed bitterly.

"Y—Yeah, Hanabi; I _know."_

**.**

**.**

"Uchiha Sasuke, you have a guest."

Ibiki wasn't even sure why he said it; Hinata had made it clear that she was not going to stop visiting Sasuke, despite the fact that today she looked worse for wear. He'd noticed the two ANBU exchanging glances, and he was sure she had too. She'd obviously spent a lot of time cleaning her face, but her eyelashes still stuck together and her cheeks were red from all her scrubbing — she'd obviously been crying. Her kimono, despite its finery, was crumpled and the edge of her right sleeve was frayed.

He didn't mention it, and he hoped Sasuke had the decency not to, as well.

**.**

**.**

Sasuke waited until he was sure Ibiki had left the room, before raising his head and scanning Hinata's face, one eyebrow perfectly arched. She was a mess, that was for sure — and that was a lot, coming from him, what with his sickly pale skin and hollow, sunken features; he was growing steadily more and more dependent on the drugs, and it sickened him. Despite his troubles, however, he found himself looking at Hinata with a twinge of pity. She was trying so hard as well. Her back was ramrod straight and her knuckles were white; she stared fixedly at the vase filled with the blue irises and yellow roses, her lilac eyes watery and slightly red, and her lashes were clumped together, unnaturally thick. Her bottom lip trembled as she fought the urge to cry.

Behind her, the two ANBU slunk out of the room, exchanging nervous glances, neither one wishing to witness the kunoichi break down.

He cocked his head, peering at her. "You didn't need to come, you know."

"I p—promised," she mumbled, tugging at the sleeve of her kimono — it was a fine kimono as well, and a nice change from the baggy jacket he'd seen her wearing previously. This was vibrant and nicer. Prettier.

"People break their promises."

"N—Naruto doesn't."

Sasuke's lips quirked into a smile. "I think you'll find he did. He promised he would bring me back at whatever cost. _He _didn't." He nodded his head towards the door, gesturing to the ANBU stood just outside. "_They _did. He broke his promise. You can break yours at any time. I wouldn't think anything of it."

"You would."

He raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," she snapped, her fists clenching — and he realised he liked seeing her like this; he liked seeing her angry and defensive and fighting for what she thought was right. "You'd be u—upset, and you'd be hurt, and you would die lonely and hated, just like your _brother." _She'd stood up, her fists clenched by her sides, and the last words came out as a hiss, filled with contempt, lashing out at him. He realised he'd been wrong to think she cared about him — she only cared about her promise to Naruto, and that was that, and he shouldn't have expected any more from her.

His eyes turned cold. "My brother was not hated."

"Are you going to t—try and _pretend, _Sasuke? _You _hated him, and you were the only person who could have even tried to love him," Hinata's voice was raising in pitch, getting higher and higher. "You _killed _him, Sasuke! Don't you pretend you loved him! You _killed _him!"

"My brother was a martyr, who killed for his beloved village," Sasuke spat, his voice low and dangerous. "My brother was a saint, who killed everyone he loved, for this rotten little place. He did things you could never have dreamed of, because your precious Hokage told him to. I didn't hate him — I hated _them."_

"What are you talking about?"

Sasuke eyed her — the girl he'd thought could possibly understand him, over time — and then smirked bitterly.

"Why would you care? You're only doing this for your wonderful Naruto. Why should we talk about feelings and people and memories? Why would _you _give a damn?"

Hinata's mouth opened and closed for a second and, at the look of pain in his eyes, and the loneliness in his voice, all of her anger vanished. All of the frustration and hatred she'd felt for her father, which she'd unleashed on this man — this lonely, lost boy — had disappeared completely. She sunk slowly back into her chair and, although the tears threatened to come, she knew they wouldn't. She'd run out of tears to cry.

"I'm sorry, S—Sasuke," she began, but she couldn't quite finish. He was still looking at her, obviously waiting for her to explain her little outburst but, as she opened her mouth, he beat her to it.

"Don't tell me you didn't mean it. Tell me anything, but don't tell me you didn't mean it."

She looked at him and he returned her stare, his gaze steady. She was suddenly aware of how ill he seemed. His skin had an unsightly, sickly glow to it. His eyes were hollow, sunken back in his face; they had ugly, huge bags underneath them. His hair stuck to his forehead in greasy clumps. Looking at Sasuke, she realised that things could be worse.

But she'd attempt to explain anyway.

"My name is Hyuuga H—Hinata. At the age of nineteen, I was going to become the leader of the Hyuuga clan. It was in my destiny, I suppose. I was too weak, though. I trained my hardest, but it wasn't enough. W—While you were in the academy, getting your perfect scores, I was barely scraping a pass. You put up a valiant f—fight during the Chuunin exams; I lost humiliatingly. I passed the Chuunin exams later, after you'd l—left, but my father still wasn't pleased. That night, he informed me I was a failure. He told me I was no daughter of his. Earlier today, he called me pitiful. I suppose I'm just r—remembering."

Sasuke tilted his head, gazing at her. All of the sudden, the fight had gone out of her. She simply seemed weary now, as she spread her palms and gazed at him.

"You know better than anyone, that memories aren't always happy. I bet my troubles seem pathetic, compared to with what y—you've been through—they're nothing, compared to the hatred Naruto had to — _has _to — put up w—with. But I… I'm always _trying. _And it's never g—good enough. He's always so disappointed. I'm not going to be like my m—m—mother, but I don't think he realizes that. He's so _ashamed."_

Absently, she began to rearrange the flowers she'd bought the day before; they were wilting slightly, as the ANBU refused to water them and Sasuke himself was in no position to do so. He watched as she picked out the irises, laying them on the table so that the only colours in the vase was yellow and green.

"No apology I give will ever be good enough to excuse the hateful things I've s—said to you. And I wish I could take them back, because you didn't d—deserve that, but it felt so good—"

"—getting them off your chest?" Sasuke cut across her, his usual smirk pasted across his face — but she noticed that his eyes were carefully blank, portraying no emotions. She bowed her head, not wanting to look into his eyes, giving up; he'd ask her not to visit him anymore, that was for certain, and she felt so ashamed of herself.

He cleared his throat.

"…I don't think you're pathetic."

Her head shot upwards and he was vaguely amused to see the surprise, and the shock, on her face. He tilted his head.

"Weakness doesn't necessarily equal being pathetic — although, it can help," he murmured, staring at the wall behind her, not meeting her gaze. "Orochimaru was one of the strongest shinobi I knew, but he was also the most pathetic, striving after a selfish and hateful goal, that he could not achieve. We all say hateful things and it takes us a while to forgive people, but it happens in time…"

He trailed off — her face lit up and she beamed at him, hearing his hidden message. 'If you'll come and visit me, still', he'd meant, and she knew that. He was glad. He yawned, despite himself, suddenly tired — his chakra was drained and his spirits were low, and now he could quite gladly accept sleep.

Hinata sensed his restlessness and straightened, clasping her hands in front of her and ducking her head, smiling apologetically. "Sleep well, S—Sasuke," she murmured, backing away slowly, moving towards the door. The ANBU slipped back inside, returning to their positions on either side of the room, eyebrows rising at the tense atmosphere, wondering what on earth had happened.

Uchiha Sasuke was already asleep.

Hyuuga Hinata was already making her way out of the prison.

They shared glances, eyebrows raised behind their masks — and then bear-mask glanced towards the table, taking in the sight of the irises, all laid out upon the table, with their yellow counterparts still in the vase. Unable to stop herself, she walked briskly over to the table, scooping the blue irises up and placing them back into the vase. Her eyes strayed over to the Uchiha in his straightjacket, hanging just beyond the glass window. She frowned.

"Such a beautiful boy — such a kind, innocent girl."

Rabbit-mask simply shrugged, turning away. Bear-mask paused, her fingers brushing against the petals of the blue irises — they were so pretty — before she too turned in the opposite direction. She smiled bitterly.

"How… _tragic_."


	4. day o4

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**: **"sixth sense: i see _dead people."_  
**notes**2**:** "scratch that, i see _dead celebrities._"  
**chapter: **o**4**/5o

**

* * *

**

Naruto was a walking, talking contradiction.

To those who did not know him well, he seemed so simple—sickeningly naïve and dense, if anything. They only saw his blonde hair and his sun-kissed cheeks—"what a handsome boy," they whispered. They didn't realize that beauty remains skin deep, but scars dig even deeper. They only saw his blue eyes, filled with joy—"such lovely eyes," they would say. They did not see the loneliness hidden within. They would judge his sheepish grin, his blonde hair and blue eyes, without even getting to know him—those were the people that whispered about him, voices solemn and eyes wary; they knew nothing about him, but they judged cruelly and mercilessly.

Sometimes, Hinata hated them—she was sure that sometimes Naruto hated them, as well—but, most of the time, she pitied them.

They did not know what they were missing.

To those who knew Naruto well, he was an unpredictable ball of energy, wearing them down, relentlessly, until they fell for his charm. He burned so brightly; his eyes were filled with happiness and dreams and loneliness; he seemed to be constantly happy—the sound of his laughter was so joyful that it could cheer up the most miserable of people. He could be overbearing. He could be too loud. He could be rude and snotty. But there was something alluring about him; there was something _more _to him; he never silently judged and, because of that, people were drawn to him. He understoodpeople. He could listen and he could talk and he could _understand_.

He understood Neji—he understood the frustration her cousin had felt; he understood that Neji wanted nothing more than to escape—to escape his destiny. Naruto understood. He understood Gaara—he understood the loneliness the Kazekage felt; he understood that Gaara had wanted nothing more than to force others to feel the same loneliness—to understand the hatred he felt. Naruto understood.

He understood Sasuke.

He understood Hinata.

He understood everyone—and he did more than that, much more. He listened and he understood and then he _helped. _He told the truth, with no pity in his eyes. His words could be cruel, and his way of helping was often painful—but he helped nonetheless. She asked him why, one day, although in a more subtle manner. He'd smiled at her, raised an eyebrow, and said,

"_Because I want to."_

It would have been romantic for her to say, 'that was the day she fell in love with him,' but it wasn't. She fell in love with him long before that. She did not believe in love at first sight—_that _should be saved for fairytales and happily ever afters—but with Naruto, she was willing to make an exception.

Hinata fell in love with Naruto the moment she saw him.

**.**

**.**

"Have you seen blondie around, lately?" Kiba asked, over his ramen, chasing some noodles around the bowl with his chopsticks.

Hinata had invited her teammates around for lunch; Shino had politely declined, informing her that his father had asked to spend some quality time with him, but Kiba had agreed all too willingly. Normally, she would have spent hours slaving away in the kitchen, during the morning, and then served him something more extravagant, but she'd been distracted by Hanabi, who'd asked for some help training. She'd been overjoyed, happy that she'd been deemed strong enough to fight with her sister; and then her face had flushed as she'd realized her father would be watching. Hanabi had simply smiled bitterly and they had sparred.

Although it was pointless to take pride in trumping her younger sister, Hinata had been extremely happy when she'd won. Her father had then pointed out that it was hardly a victory and that he would have expected her to win anyway, seeing as she _was _a Chunnin.

She hadn't wanted to cook after that.

It didn't bother Kiba, anyway. He quite liked ramen and Hinata had already offered him one of her homemade cinnamon rolls. He'd already had two. She nibbled on her first cinnamon roll, almost halfway through—she usually ate slowly, but she'd been so preoccupied thinking of her training session that she'd slowed down even more.

She blinked at Kiba. "W—who?"

"Naruto," Kiba mumbled, finally scooping up the noodles—they'd put up a fair fight, but now he'd defeated them and it was time for them to go into his stomach. He grinned slightly, his eyes flicking up to Hinata. "I haven't seen him in ages, which is pretty weird, because he normally wants to train."

Hinata chewed on her food thoughtfully. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen Naruto around either—what was even weirder was that she'd barely thought about him, in the past few times; of course, she'd mentioned his name a few times to Sasuke, but that was it. She placed her roll back on her plate, folding her arms.

"H—he's probably at h—his apartment," she mumbled, biting her lip self-consciously. "I don't think he's b—been to see Sasuke, yet."

Her friend nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I heard he wasn't _allowed _to see Sasuke; they reckon he's too reckless and unpredictable, and who knows what it would do to Sasuke's health?" His voice turned bitter and mocking, as he stabbed at a noodle. "Who knows what would happen, letting a guy see his best friend? Who knows what'd happen, huh? Who knows?"

Hinata's eyes widened slightly.

"I thought y—you didn't like Sasuke."

Kiba arched an eyebrow, perfectly. "…I don't—but I like Naruto. The moron's probably tearing himself up about it, hating Sasuke and loving Sasuke in equal measure. He probably wants to kick the shit out of the Uchiha and he probably wants to give him a great big hug. It ripped them apart. It ruined Team Seven—left a big grey cloud hanging over their heads—because they all _loved _Sasuke. I don't know much about adding and subtracting, and all that complicated school stuff, but I know love when I see it."

"Imagine if it were us in their position, Hinata," he continued, inspecting a noodle idly and not meeting her gaze. "Imagine if Shino left—imagined if Shino turned _bad;_ if he got swallowed up by greed and power and hatred—imagine if he left us and we fought for so long to get him back. Then, all of a sudden, he's back, but we're not allowed to see him anymore. This guy, who we loved, but hated for leaving; imagine if we weren't allowed to see him anymore and ask him, 'why weren't we good enough?' What would I be doing, huh?"

He broke off. Hinata realized she was holding her breath, her eyes wide; it wasn't like Kiba to suddenly speak up like this. He tended to keep out of other's affairs—_"do I look like a meddler to you?"_ He'd told her—and it wasn't often that he felt such sadness for another person; he tended to keep to himself, much like Shino.

"I'd be beating myself up. I'd be angry and frustrated and _wondering. _I'd want to know _why_—why'd he leave, why'd he get caught, why'd he do it in the first place; why weren't we good enough? I'd want to know," for a second, he seemed frightened, like he'd said too much. "I'd be feeling… awful. Me and Naruto are a lot alike, when it comes to friends and family, and then sometimes we're really different—Naruto's going to be wanting a friend right now, and not Sakura, because she's feeling the exact same way."

Kiba looked pointedly at her. In a way, his eyes reminded her of Sasuke's—they were smaller and sharper though; inviting and friendly; but they were just as intelligent and knowing. They looked at her and they saw. They understood.

And now they were trying to help.

Her face split into a gentle, loving smile and Kiba visibly relaxed, heaving a sigh of relief; she chuckled softly, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. He was much more like Naruto than he thought.

"Jeez, for a second there, I thought you weren't going to get it; I'm really bad with words," he mumbled, tipping back his head and slurping down the rest of his (now cold) ramen. He looked at her, his cheeks bulging, and she found him so charmingly wonderful that she could not help but laugh. He eyed her warily, before finally joining in.

They laughed together, her with her cinnamon rolls and white eyes, him with his red tattoos and empty bowl. They were two of a kind, friends 'til the end, they were part of the big family that was Konoha, and no one gets left behind.

And that's how they rolled.

Hinata attempted to calm herself down, smothering her slightly nervous giggles with her hands, and watched as Kiba let out a deep sigh—when they were both finally silent, she looked at him. "Is this w—why you agreed to come to m—my house for lunch, then?"

He waved a hand airily. "Nah, it's just one of the many reasons I'd want to visit someone like you." He lifted his right hand, ticking off his fingers as he spoke. "Number one, you're gorgeous and don't you deny it. Number two, I can't cook for shit. Number three, Hana can't cook for shit either. Number four, Naruto could do with a friend right now. And, number five, you're my best mate."

He paused, before smirking.

"Plus, you have a nice rack."

Hinata's cheeks flushed pink. "_K—Kiba!"_

He held his hands up in surrender, chuckling to his self, all the while still grinning. "Hey, I'm just telling it like how I see it. You're a sweet girl, Hinata—why _wouldn't _I want to come to your place? You're the best looking thing in Konoha, except for me, of course, but it's impossible to beat me; you should still feel proud, though."

Kiba winked.

Hinata's blush darkened until her face became tomato red; she fidgeted with the edge of her jacket, shuffling nervously; but, despite her embarrassment, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. He returned her smile, standing up and moving his bowl over to the sink—he washed it quickly underneath the tap, not bothering to use soapy water, and then dried his hands on his trousers.

"A—are you going to come w—with me, to see N—Naruto?"

"No chance," Kiba scoffed, shaking his head repeatedly. "Like hell would I do anything as girly as that—and if you say it was my idea, I'm telling everyone you still sleep with a baby blanket."

"You said—_y—you said you wouldn't tell a—a—anyone!"_

**.**

**.**

Deep in the middle of Konoha's forest, Sasuke cried out in pain as a fist connected with the side of his cheek—he swung sideways from the force of the hit; his entire cheek throbbed and he knew he'd have a nasty bruise there. He'd been removed from his chains; instead, he'd been tied to a chair, facing the glass window—they'd removed his straightjacket and tied his hands beneath his back, and he felt strangely vulnerable—he felt naked, sat there in a black shirt and basic black shinobi shorts, blindfolded and restrained.

Tsunade leaned forwards (and, behind him, Ibiki moved back into the shadows), resting her elbows on the table in front of her and linking her hands together. "Uchiha, I'll ask you only one more time," she murmured, her voice soft and low and deadly. "Where is the Akatsuki hideout?"

He turned to face her, his hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his body. He shrugged one shoulder wearily, smirking slightly, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The older woman tilted her head. "…isn't that a shame, then?"

There was a movement from somewhere to his left, and then Ibiki's fist seemed to come out of nowhere—it hit his left eye, forcefully, painfully, and lights flashed behind Sasuke's closed eyes. Ibiki turned and brought his elbow smashing down into Sasuke's shoulder—he yelped despite himself, as the pain shot through his body, and instinctively pulled against his bonds. He heard Ibiki tug out his kunai—heard the whistle as the blade sliced through the air—and then suddenly his fingers felt like they were on fire.

"Stay still, Uchiha, and take it like a man."

He bit his tongue, drawing blood, in an effort to stop himself from crying out again—he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He gasped in a huge breath, before wiggling his fingers gingerly; Ibiki hadn't sliced them off, despite the fact that it had felt like it—instead, he'd sliced into them, cutting deeply into Sasuke's skin. He felt the blood trickle down his palms, dripping to the floor steadily.

For a few seconds, he simply listened to that steady noise—the drip, drip, drip of his blood and the thump, thump, thump of his heart. He listened and everything became okay; Ibiki's taunts faded to nothing and he was barely aware of Tsunade's piercing gaze; all he knew was that if he waited for long enough, they'd go.

And _she'd _come.

He felt the cool of a blade press against his lips—thin and sharp—a senbon, he guessed. Ibiki dragged it down his chin, leaving a shallow cut in its trail; it continued down his neck, forcing him to cringe away, and the down his chest, slicing easily through the fabric of his top. It was gentle. He could almost forget it was there.

Then Ibiki stabbed the senbon swiftly into his hip. Sasuke jerked forwards, pressing his lips tightly together and refusing to make a sound. He heard Ibiki tut. He heard the sound of a second senbon being removed. There was the same taunting descent, down his leg this time, except Ibiki pressed down harder—and then, finally, the senbon was stabbed mercilessly into the side of his ankle.

And so the game began. A taunting descent, followed by a sharp stab of pain, and then fighting not to make a sound; over and over, occasionally punctuated by a punch or a slap; every now and then, Tsunade would sigh loudly and he would be reminded that she was still watching silently.

He hated her.

"Remove the blindfold."

Ibiki complied, yanking it ruthlessly from Sasuke's face and taking a few strands of hair with it. Obsidian eyes gazed into amber. Tsunade's face was carefully blank. "You are a traitor, Uchiha Sasuke. You cannot escape your fate, no matter how much your friends beg. You are condemned to death. This is inevitable. Will you not do something for your village—a final act of heroism, perhaps?"

"…I'm not a hero."

Tsunade snorted, straightening slowly. She gestured at the senbon. "Thirty-two, Uchiha. Ibiki, I wouldn't waste them on a lowly criminal."

"I wasn't planning on it, Lady Hokage."

"Return him to his earlier restraints, Ibiki, and be careful. That boy may be _scum_, but he is still an Uchiha and an S-rank criminal," she walked briskly towards the door, glancing back over her shoulder for a second.

Sasuke met her gaze easily.

"I pity you, Uchiha. You had it all. You lost it so quickly."

He simply smiled.

"That's what _you _think."

**.**

**.**

It took Hinata almost ten minutes to work up the courage to knock on the door of Naruto's apartment—she stood there for a while, hovering on the doorway, blushing and feeling faint. She was nervous and she wished that Kiba had decided to come with her; she didn't think she'd be able to go through with it.

"N—Naruto is my _friend_," she mumbled to herself, glancing apprehensively at the door. "I can d—do this for him. Kiba w—wants me to."

So, with that thought fresh in her mind, she knocked gently on the door, exactly three times. There was a scuffle from within, as though someone had fallen over something, and then the smash of a plate breaking—she heard curses, before, finally, the door opened and Naruto grinned at her, breathless.

He was everything Sasuke wasn't. He was taller than he used to be, back in the academy—back then, they were around the same height; now, he towered over her. His hair was longer, as well; longer than it had been when they were younger; it was still so messy but it seemed natural for it to be messy. It was normal. Just like how the three scars—whiskers—on his each of his cheeks were normal. She blushed slightly—he was wearing a white tank top and black boxers, and he was ridiculously underdressed; she could practically see his toned stomach rippling beneath the white fabric.

She felt dizzy.

One look into Naruto's eyes changed all of that—although he was beaming at her, his eyes were different. They seemed distant—detached, as though nothing around him had anything to do with him, anymore—they were dull; once, they had been as bright as the sky and shone like precious jewels. Now, their colour had faded. Their sparkle was lost. They looked dead, to her. The Naruto she adored was elsewhere, lost in a different world—lost in his thoughts—and he needed help getting back.

He needed help understanding.

"Hinata!" He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, gesturing down at himself (and her eyes lingered on his legs for just a fraction too long). "If I'd known you were coming around, I would have gotten dressed and, uh, tidied up."

"I w—wanted to surprise you," she smiled at him, pressing her fingers together. "M—may I come i—in?"

Naruto stepped to the side, leaning against the door and flourishing wildly with one hand. "Welcome to my humble castle, pretty princess," he grinned, and she stepped past him, blushing furiously—pretty princess? _Sakura _was pretty—_she _was not. "Make yourself at home. D'you want anything to eat or drink? I think I have some ramen and possibly some coffee…"

"A c—coffee would be n—nice, p—please."

He swung the door shut behind her. "That's one coffee, coming right up," he said, bustling away and into the kitchen; he scooped up a few mugs, left on the draining board, and rinsed them through, before placing them on the side. She stood uncertainly next to the door as he flicked on the kettle, unsure of whether she should leave him or not—when he turned to face her, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, she decided to say.

He shrugged a shoulder. "It's a small castle, I'll admit, but it's decent. I'd have cleaned up, of course, if I knew, but right now, it's a mess. Its loads smaller than your house—I bet you actually _do _live in a castle, right?"

Hinata shook her head, giggling nervously. "Uhm, n—not quite. The Hyuuga House is m—more like a group of buildings. The M—Main Building is p—pretty big, I guess, but most of it is u—used for meetings and a—as training r—rooms. You c—could come over and have a l—look, if you wanted t—to."

Naruto beamed at her. "I will do, sometime—thanks, Hinata!" His smile faltered briefly, his mask slipping off his face. "…Oh, you're here about that date, aren't you? Because I swear, I wanted to go, but things happened, and we can always rearrange, can't we?"

He smiled gingerly.

"I'm n—not here about the d—date…"

He let out a sigh of relief and Hinata felt a pain in her chest. He was happy he didn't have to go on a date with her. Oh God, she should have known. She wasn't Sakura or Ino. _She _didn't get dates with boys. It had been a pity date. She should have known it was too good to be true.

'_Naruto is your friend,' _her mind reassured her. _'You know full well he didn't mean it like that. You're here to help out a friend, anyway—forget your date. That's _history._ This is what's important now.'_

"I'm here to t—talk about Sasuke."

Naruto stiffened. His face became blank. He turned away from her, moving back to the coffee—spooning in some coffee, lifting the kettle up methodically, pouring in the boiling water, and then stirring. Nonstop stirring. She heard the chink of the metal spoon hitting the side of the mug, over and over again.

"You n—need to talk to _someone_, Naruto. You c—can't keep these feelings hidden i—inside you. I'm your _friend. _You can t—talk to me."

There was no response. He continued stirring, moving the spoon to the second mug, and then stirring again. She could see the muscles straining in his back, as he stood taut and rigid, refusing to look at her, refusing to respond, refusing to acknowledge her.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I _understand._"

She watched as Naruto tensed, his hands shaking, and, inside, she smiled slightly. She was getting a reaction. She was getting somewhere.

"_How? _How can _you _understand? What have you been through, which is even remotely like this?" Naruto snapped, but he still didn't turn and she could still hear the chink of the spoon hitting the inside of the mug. "Sasuke wasn't just my best friend. He was—he _is_—my brother! And they've locked him up in some dirty prison, and thrown away the key—they've condemned him to _death, _Hinata! He's going to be rotting in some prison and he'll think I've forgotten about him! I won't see him again until he's in a _coffin. You _barely know Sasuke. How can _you _understand? You _don't _understand!"

She folded her arms, summoning all of her courage, and forced her face to go blank. "Then make me, N—Naruto—make me _understand."_

The stirring stopped. He placed the spoon gently down on the counter, picked up one of the mugs and handed it to her. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Your coffee, Hinata. It's hot."

"Thank y—you, Naruto," she took it from him, stepping to the side as he left the kitchen, abandoning his own coffee on the counter. She glanced back at it, sighed, and then followed him through the door and towards a battered old chair. He pointed at it. "You can sit there. I'll stand."

She complied, sitting down slowly and placing her coffee on the table beside her. Naruto watched her, her words echoing in his head.

_(then make me, Naruto)_

Hinata had a gentle face. That's probably what he liked most about her; sure, she was aesthetically pleasing in over areas, but it was her face that he liked most. She had soft features and a sisterly smile. In his opinion, her eyes were such a pale lilac that they were almost white—almost as white as snow; he wondered, briefly, if it was the light, or the rest of her features, that made them seem lilac. He decided it didn't matter. Her eyes were kind enough; they were open and honest and they wanted nothing more than to help.

_(make me understand)_

He opened his mouth.

"I thought I hated Sasuke, when I first met him. I thought I hated his smirk and his pretty boy looks and his snobby attitude. I thought I hated how perfect he was. I guess, looking back, I didn't really hate him. I was younger then and stupidly naïve—it wasn't hatred. It was a grudging respect, bordering jealousy. I looked up to him. I admired him so much. But his bratty attitude, and the fact that he was constantly looking down on me, made me strive to beat him. I think he didn't really hate me, either. I think it was the same for him, as it was for me. We saw each other as rivals. We saw each other as brothers. For Sasuke—for_ me_—there wasn't that much of a difference.

"We grew closer and closer, more like brothers every single day. I really liked him, back then; he was genuinely like an older brother to me, and I hadn't really known family before him and Sakura. We got so close that soon we didn't have to say anything, or do anything, to tell how the other was feeling—we just _knew. _I could tell if Sasuke was happy or sad, from the way he punched me, when we sparred. I could tell if he was lonely from his walk. I could tell when he was amused. I knew him so well, that I knew what he feared, what he liked and disliked. I knew him so well that, when he left, my world was shattered. Because, of all the things I thought he'd do, I never thought he'd do that."

Naruto stopped, shrugging lazily and smiling bitterly. "But what can you do? Everyone surprises me, sometimes. I think I know most people and then they blow me right off track. When you confessed to me, when we battling Pein, I never would have thought someone like you could love me. I should've—back then—I wish I'd—"

Hinata held up a hand. "This is a—about Sasuke, Naruto." She smiled gently, and he returned her smile, sheepishly.

"Right, right; sorry. I guess I thought Sasuke liked it here. I thought we meant more than that to him. I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. But I still loved him—that's why I promised, to Sakura, to myself, to everyone, that I'd get him back. I don't care that it wasn't me who's brought him back—sure, it stings a little bit, but I was just happy he'd gotten back. I thought, 'the moment I see that bastard, I'm going to ask him what's up? And things will go back to normal.' I was wrong. Turns out we aren't even allowed to see him. Turns out he's going to die, after forty-five days. Turns out the clock is ticking for Sasuke, and time is running out. Turns out he's going to die lonely and I'll never get my answers."

Naruto stared at her, his blue eyes filled with sorrow. "Do you get it? You _can't _understand, Hinata, because you don't know him like I do. And now you'll never get the chance to." He sucked in a deep breath, pointing at her coffee cup. "…are you done with that?"

She nodded.

He scooped it up, slopping some of the contents down himself, and walked back into the kitchen. Hinata watched him leave, her heart aching. She wanted to tell him, so badly—she wanted to tell him that she _did _understand because she was beginning to understand him; she was beginning to understand Sasuke. But if she told him, Sasuke really would die a lonely, tragic death.

She was going to have to keep it a secret.

She stood up slowly, mentally preparing herself, and walked towards the kitchen, stumbling over a wastepaper bin on her way. She stepped through the door. Naruto was leaning over the sink, hunched over, his shoulders shaking—she could see his knuckles were white. He was sobbing silently, shaking.

Hinata walked over to him and placed her arms around his waist.

She felt him stiffen and then relax, one hand reaching up to bat away the tears. She rested her head against his back, feeling his warmth, smelling his smell, and smiled sadly. "You're right, N—Naruto. I'll never u—understand what you're going t—through. But I'll always b—be there for you, because I l—love you."

His breathing slowed.

"You're… you're a nice girl, Hinata."

**.**

**.**

"Uchiha Sasuke isn't in the best of shape, right now, Hinata," Ibiki informed her, as she followed him. She was beginning to get used to ignoring the calls of the prisoners around her, despite the fact that she wanted to try and help them. "The Hokage called by earlier—she wanted some information. He… didn't _cooperate._"

He pushed open the door to Sasuke's prison cell.

Hinata stepped inside. Everything seemed to be normal, she noted; the ANBU were still skulking in their opposite corners, Sasuke was in his usual straightjacket, and the flowers she had brought a few days ago were scattered across the floor, the vase missing. She turned to Ibiki, frowning slightly. "M—my vase is g—gone."

Ibiki's lips twitched into a dark smile; it sent shivers down her spine and made the hairs on her arms stand up. He bowed jerkily. "My apologies, Hinata—I smashed it over the Uchiha's head."

She gaped, searching Ibiki's face for any signs to show he was joking. He didn't appear to be and, if he was, it wasn't a very nice joke anyway.

"I can replace it."

That settled it—he definitely _wasn't _joking. Hinata whirled around, hurrying over to the glass window, placing his palms against it and inspecting Sasuke—at a first glance, he appeared to be okay; he usually didn't look up at her, until Ibiki had left the room, and she suspected that this time was no different. But as she looked closely, she noticed that parts of his straightjacket were stained red. His hair clung to his forehead in matted clods—matted with sweat or _blood? _She could barely tell.

He groaned weakly.

She turned to Ibiki, alarmed, only to find that the older man had left. She glanced at the two ANBU, turning to the one with the bear mask. "I—is he okay? Shouldn't we s—send for a medic nin?"

Bear-mask laughed. "Hyuuga Hinata, this man is a _traitor. _He shall be treated as any traitor would be. In fact, he is worse than a traitor. He deserves a slow and painful death."

"H—he's done nothing _wrong!"_

"He was part of the Akatsuki," rabbit mask stated, blankly. "He was found wearing their cloak. He attacked a shinobi from Kumogakure. He killed Uchiha Itachi. He could very well have orchestrated the attack on Konoha that ended up with you, among others, getting injured. He no doubt plans to destroy Konoha himself. He probably plans on killing Uzumaki Naruto, one of Konoha's finest heroes."

Hinata opened her mouth to speak, but Sasuke beat her to it.

"…finest heroes, huh? Last time I heard, you… you were still calling him a _monster._"

The two ANBU spluttered and hissed, but Hinata ignored them; she whirled around, turning to face Sasuke, and instantly gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. His poor, beautiful _face!_ His skin seemed even paler, contrasting perfectly with the ugly bruise on his right cheek. The bruise was sickeningly big; it seemed to cover the entire right side of his face, a disgusting splatter of yellow, purple and brown. A thin trail of blood dribbled from his left eye; the dried blood had crusted his eyelashes together, and that eye stayed closed, useless and pathetic. Ibiki had split his lip, as well.

The horror on Hinata's face was almost perfect—if it didn't hurt so much, Sasuke would have laughed. Instead, he settled for a smirk.

"You're staring."

Hinata ignored him, turning back to the ANBU, furious. "He _n—needs _a medic; look at his face. What if he's g—gone _blind_?"

Bear-mask scoffed. "You care too much. You forget he is a prisoner."

"He's still a _p—person!"_

The ANBU shook their heads, simultaneously, and then rabbit-mask moved towards the door—his companion followed him, shutting the door silently behind them. Hinata watched them leave, mouth opening and shutting, unsure of what to do. Sasuke looked mildly amused.

"…'s okay."

She shook her head. "It i—isn't!"

"I'm a criminal."

"You're m—my _friend."_

"I barely know you."

"I k—know you better than y—you think."

He tilted his head, wearily. "Really…?"

She nodded.

"Then go ahead, 'friend'. Try and convince your beloved Hokage that I _shouldn't _be interrogated."

"You're d—drug dependent, Sasuke. Your eyes—_eye—_are unfocused. Y—you could end up b—blind. Those cuts c—could be infected. You deserve to be t—treated better than this. None of the o—other prisons are like this, and _they're _all S-rank c—criminals, too. Lady Tsunade is b—being too unfair. I shall talk to h—her."

"Sleep on it."

"W—why?"

"You might change your mind in the morning—about everything. Don't go rushing anything. I don't want… I like having a visitor."

Hinata smiled slightly. "O—okay…"

"Tell me something about you, to take my mind off… _things_."

Hinata raised an eyebrow, before chuckling slightly as Sasuke shrugged. "Okay then, S—Sasuke," she paused, attempting to think of an interesting enough story, and then smiled sheepishly. "It involves N—Neji."

"Even better."

She laughed, before moving over to the table, sitting down in the chair that the Hokage had sat in, just hours before. "Neji and I n—never used to get along, b—because he's from the branch clan, w—whereas I'm the main clan; he b—believed that it was an inescapable d—destiny of his, that he'd always h—have to do our bidding. Now, he knows better; h—he's actually going to be the head of the H—Hyuuga family—but, about after the C—Chunnin exams, just when he started to l—like me, we went on a m—mission together. Nothing serious; a B-ranked, assassination mission; we had to kill a n—nobleman, who had fallen into gambling and d—debt, and had murdered many p—people. Lady Tsunade e—explained to us that the man we were going to k—kill was a notorious pedophile. He t—tended to like exotic twins."

"That's quite a preference."

Hinata laughed again, her voice sounding almost musical—Sasuke decided he liked her laugh. "It is, isn't it? N—Neji wasn't too against it; h—he said it was all part of being a shinobi, and t—took it like a man. It didn't take u—us long to get there; the brothel was just to the s—south of Kumogakure. It was the _d—dirtiest _place I had ever been in. It was e—extremely embarrassing, for me; p—poor _Neji. _Ino got to pick h—his outfit; I think she had her r—revenge for him not being attracted to h—her. She made him wear _f—fishnets _and the shortest kimono I've e—ever seen and h—h—_hooker boots._"

Sasuke's smirk widened and he ignored the fresh pang of pain which came from his stinging lip. Hinata was obviously enjoying herself, despite her earlier concern.

"Neji and I infiltrated the p—place easily, armed with a c—couple of senbon and a k—kunai each," Hinata continued, chuckling at the memory. "I remember, Neji was t—trying his hardest to be serious and kept h—hitching his skirt down, at the b—back. We found the man and he l—liked Neji much better than me; bearing in m—mind, we were only thirteen, or fourteen. It was h—humiliating, for Neji; he kept groping him and calling him b—babe. I was almost in h—hysterics. He took us into the bedroom and suddenly p—pinned Neji against the wall, pulling at his k—kimono. Neji overreacted."

"…what did he do?" Sasuke asked, before he could stop himself.

Hinata smiled brightly. "Neji slit his t—throat open."

The Uchiha gazed at the Hyuuga; there was a moment in which they simply stared at each other, content with the silence—and then Hinata began to giggle, softly, smothering the noise with her hand, and Sasuke chuckled slightly as well.

And, once they started laughing, they just couldn't stop.

Despite all of his cuts and bruises, and broken bones, and his left eye, Sasuke was content. Hanging there, hurting, he was happy. He was happy to talk to someone as kind Hyuuga Hinata.

"Fifty days will shoot by."

Hinata glanced up, her giggles dissolving into hiccups. "Did you s—say something, S—Sasuke?"

He smirked.

"No."


	5. day o5

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**: **"shrek is a sexy beast. ogre. my bad."  
**notes**2**:** "hey short stuff, you're looking mighty fine." "who're you calling _short?"  
_**chapter: **o**5**/5o

**

* * *

**

Neji was a fearful shinobi. He was stronger than any member of the branch clan—his strength rivaled even her father's, and her cousin still had many years to perfect his byakugan; as hard as it was for her to admit, Neji was a flower blooming in the spring, its petals just unfurling, its true potential yet to be reached. He was beautiful like a flower as well—he was stunningly gracefully, and his fighting style was dance-like—_graceful._

Hanabi was an equally fearful opponent. Despite her young age, she was already becoming extraordinarily strong for age. She received tutoring from not only Neji and various members of the branch clan, but also from their father, Hiashi, and other clan elders. Hinata realized that he didn't want to make the same mistake he'd made with her, with Hanabi. Her sister was like a sapling, though—she still had time to grow stronger and wiser.

In comparison, Hinata was a weed; when compared to her beautiful cousin, she was bland. She lacked any grace, with her fumbling fingers and her flushed face. When compared to her strong younger sister, she was pathetic; weak. She was undesirable and troublesome, just like a weed—she remembered, just after the Chunnin exams, the amount of money her father had spent making sure she was fully healed, and received the best treatment. He'd wished her well, of course. She'd still seen the disgust on his face when he'd found the medical bill.

She would never be as beautiful as Neji or as strong as Hanabi—she would never be as deadly and dangerous as her father. She would never be seen as a threat, both as a kunoichi and as a woman, to any other shinobi. She was too bashful and innocent to use her womanly wiles to defeat her opponent, despite the fact that Kurenai had assured her it was the greatest weapons any kunoichi had. She didn't have a special jutsu—she didn't have an ultimate jutsu hidden up her sleeve—she'd thought she had, but then Pein had batted her aside as easily as that.

No, Hinata was a failure.

Ask anyone else, however, and it would be a completely different story. Kurenai saw potential hiding in Hinata, just waiting to be unlocked and mastered—Kiba and Shino, her teammates, saw her elegance on the battlefield; they knew she had the element of surprise. Kiba would have said that her bite was much worse than her bark, especially since she was lacking any sort of bark at all. Shino would have said that she was a talented kunoichi, hindered only by the fact that she did not believe in herself.

Hanabi saw her older sister, someone to aspire to be like, as well as care for and nurture, like a mother. She loved her sister, more than anything—Neji could be as strong and as powerful as he liked, and Hanabi respected that, but she thought Hinata was much stronger. Perhaps not physically, but definitely mentally. She could understand the enemy—she gave them a chance—and then she struck, often ruthlessly; Hanabi had only twice seen Hinata in battle. The first time had been a spar against a fellow kunoichi, Yamanaka Ino; the second had been against Pein and, although that could hardly be called a battle, it was the bravest thing Hanabi had ever seen. She hadn't seen Neji leaping to the rescue.

She'd seen her bumbling, fumbling, blushing sister do the bravest thing in her life.

Neji would have agreed with Hanabi; he might have been physically stronger than Hinata, but she was definitely a stronger person than him. He had had a rough childhood, that was for sure, but he'd seen the disappointment and lack of affection in Hiashi's eyes, when he looked at his eldest daughter. Neji wondered how Hinata stood for it—how she simply stood there, her head lowered respectfully, and let him mock her and scorn her—how she kept all of her emotions hidden within her. However, Neji would have said that Hinata was beautiful, as well—more so than himself. In her finest kimono, she was noble. With her hair pinned back, she was delicate. She had skin as soft as petals—she had eyes filled with love. She did not judge. She loved everyone, unconditionally—himself included, despite the fact that he'd attempted to kill her.

And Naruto…?

Before, Naruto had seen Hinata as just another kunoichi, although he'd never admit that—she'd been a friend, yes, of course, but she had never really stood out to him. She'd changed all of that after the incident with Pein. Her love for him had changed all of that. He had begun to see her as less of a kunoichi and more of a woman—his eyes didn't see the calloused fingers and instead saw the soft curves of her body; he saw that she was attractive, but most Hyuuga's were—he knew she was a kind person, but not much else. He did not know her as well as Sakura.

After she'd confronted him about Sasuke, he'd had to reevaluate all of his feelings for her. He'd carefully sorted through the facts that he knew and the feelings he felt. He'd thought of her confessions, over and over again (and his mind had strayed from the taboo that was Sasuke, for at least a little while), until he'd decided that he'd like to get to know Hinata better. He knew she was a strong, beautiful kunoichi.

He wanted to know what was underneath.

**.**

**.**

Hinata twisted, lashing out with her right palm, aiming for a tenketsu point in her opponent's shoulder; Neji blocked her attack effortlessly, span on the ball of his foot and then pushed his palm at her chest. She arched clumsily, her mind elsewhere, placed both of her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself backwards—Neji waited for her to land a distance away before tilting his head and frowning.

"You seem occupied, Hinata. Is there something wrong?"

She blinked, bewildered, and then shook her head hesitantly. "N—nothing at all, Neji. I was just thinking a—about… _things_."

Truthfully, she had been thinking about Uchiha Sasuke.

Not long after she'd told him her story, he'd closed his eyes and his breathing had become relaxed and even. She had waited for a while, before gathering herself together and thanking the ANBU on duty—they had nodded tensely, obviously waiting for her to make some kind of fuss about Sasuke's decision, but she had said nothing. Instead, she had walked down the corridor, sneaking a peak into each cell, checking to see the condition of the inmates, and then exited the prison as quickly as possible—every other inmate she had seen had been fine. For some reason or another, Sasuke was an exception.

She didn't know him well enough to say that she liked him, but she couldn't leave him in that state; she owed it to Naruto to keep him healthy and well. She had promised, more to herself than anyone else, that she would make his last fifty days enjoyable, and being beaten up every other day probably didn't help her promise.

She'd hurried to the Hokage's office, but had been turned away instantly—Shizune had smiled apologetically and shook her head, mumbling something about the Hokage being "busy right now, and can she get to you tomorrow?" Hinata had simply thanked the other kunoichi and left, asking for an appointment the next day.

Neji's frown deepened as he considered his obviously distracted cousin—she had returned to gazing somewhere off to her left, her lips pursed tightly, sweat dribbling down her forehead and sticking to her hair. She made no attempt to brush it away. He slipped back into his defensive stance and waited for her to make her move—to rush him and attack him—but nothing happened; she almost completely ignored him.

He let out a small, almost unheard, sigh, before darting forwards; Hinata's eyes widened as she finally noticed his approach and she let out a small squeak, slipping into a hasty defensive stance. Upon nearing her, he span on the ball of his left foot, swung his right leg gracefully through the air and kicked her stomach; her eyes widened to an almost comical size as his kick slipped straight past her defensive block, and she was pushed backwards.

He hesitated, scanning his cousin for the same signs of distraction, but she was glaring weakly at him, one arm pressed against her winded stomach—he flipped his hair out of his face and made to move forwards again, before stepping back and reconsidering. Her heart obviously wasn't into the spar. He doubted she was even taking it seriously.

As Neji turned away, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched, Hinata knew instantly that she'd done something wrong; ever since she'd gotten closer to her older cousin, she'd begun to understand when something was bothering him, but she couldn't always quite figure out what was wrong.

He stopped suddenly, glancing briefly back over his shoulder, and she noticed that his expression was carefully blank. "Are you mocking me, Hinata? If you wish to be a strong kunoichi, you must fight with your _heart _as well as your fists," he paused, obviously torn between saying something else or leaving. Finally, he murmured, "…and if anything is troubling you, remember that I am your _family. _I will not judge you."

She noticed the hurt in his voice and winced, stepping forwards to attempt to comfort him; but she instantly knew that that wasn't what he wanted—he never liked it when she stumbled over the word 'sorry'; she doubted he liked that word at all. She watched as he walked briskly back towards the Main House; sweat gleaming on the back of his neck, his hair swung over one shoulder and slightly frizzy; and wondered how on earth she could apologise to him, without saying the word 'sorry'.

She waited until he was safely inside, before grunting and flopping down onto the floor, placing her head in her hands and thinking. She adored Neji, that was true; she loved him with all her heart, and didn't want to hurt him, because he'd been hurt so much before; but she couldn't tell him about Sasuke. The Uchiha's name had become an unspoken taboo; whenever Naruto was around, the villagers would share telling glances but wouldn't say a thing; whenever Sakura walked into a building, women would fawn over her and immediately tell her that _he_ wasn't worth it. No one said his name. No one openly spoke of him.

No one visited him.

Apart from her. And if she told Neji she was visiting a traitor—an S-rank criminal—she wondered if he'd _really _understand. Sasuke was dangerous and Neji didn't want Hinata to get hurt. She wondered if he'd really, truly be able to understand her situation?

She stretched onto her back, gazing up at the sun, and wondered if she'd started something she would never be able to break out of. For an hour, each day, for fifty days, she'd have the most terrible secret anyone had ever had. Oh, if only the villagers _knew! _The amount of gossip there would be.

She chuckled out loud.

"H—have you heard? That shy little Hyuuga girl is visiting the i—infamous Uchiha Sasuke. Isn't it _incredible?"_

**.**

**.**

Tsunade was an important woman—the Hokage of the entire village of Konohagakure, which was a pretty damn big village, if you asked her; and the amount of people she had to satisfy and keep happy was huge—sometimes, she wanted to simply sit down with a flask of sake and drink her way into a coma. With such a big village, she reasoned, it was natural that not _everyone _was happy.

As she attempted to explain this to a fuming Hyuuga Hinata, she wondered what she was doing wrong. She had returned after Hinata had left—she'd actually been hoping to meet the girl on her way back, and ask the Hyuuga if she could try and get some information out of Sasuke during their little meetings—and healed the ungrateful brat. She'd even washed his hair and put him in a new straightjacket. She'd replaced the flowers and placed money on the table, in payment for Ibiki smashing the vase; and she'd told Hinata all of this, but the girl still wasn't pleased.

"I a—apologise for making such a fuss, L—Lady Tsunade, but I s—still cannot understand why Uchiha Sasuke is b—being treated like this in the first p—place," the Hyuuga repeated, her hands linked in front of her, looking as shy as ever; but Tsunade could see the determination and force glinting in her eyes, and she did not like it one little bit.

"I have told you already, Hinata," she replied, attempting to sound patient, "But Uchiha Sasuke is an S-ranked criminal, with relations to the Akatsuki. We need all the information out of him that we can get."

"Torturing him isn't g—going to work, though."

"I would much prefer to call it 'questioning', Hinata; and yes, I am aware that it is hardly going to work on such a stubborn individual." Tsunade attempted to discreetly sneak her hand into her drawer, scrambling around for her sake bottle, but she was sure the younger girl had noticed—of course she had noticed. The Hyuuga clan had the best eyesight around.

"Then, if I might a—ask, _why _are you torturing h—him?" Hinata's lips quirked into a fixed smile, and Tsunade knew that, as she poured herself some sake, pretending it was tea, her drinking habits had not gone unnoticed.

For a while, Tsunade didn't answer—instead, she simply sipped her drink, relishing the taste of alcohol and the fuzzy buzz it was giving her, gazing into the milky-white eyes of the Hyuuga girl. After a few more seconds of simply looking, she decided that the brat wasn't going to give up without a fight, and therefore a fuss, and it would be much easier just to let her have her way, like a spoilt child. Less drama that way.

But Tsunade could also be stubborn when she wanted to be, and now was one of those occasions.

"Hinata, it isn't as simple as that. Let me attempt to explain—and please, be quiet when I do so." She waited for the Hyuuga to nod meekly, before continuing. "Although I am the Hokage, there are many people who help make the decisions with me—that is diplomacy, Hinata, and that is the way the village is run. For example, the village elders stated that it would not be a good idea to let Naruto, or Sakura, see the Uchiha, because of the emotions that could be stirred up within both parties, and the unpredictable outcome. I opposed this idea. I believed that we could trust them. I was overruled, as the majority sided with the elders, including Nara Shikamaru and his father, some of the greatest minds of our village."

She watched as Hinata frowned, abandoning her bashful, shy nature and folding her arms. If anything, the words Tsunade had just said had simply fuelled the female Hyuuga, and the Hokage was beginning to regret her decision to argue back.

"…so, together we decided that we had to extract that information from Uchiha Sasuke, and it had to be done quickly," Tsunade continued, staring into her drink sullenly, fully aware that she probably wasn't going to win the argument. "I was against torturing him, if you must know—I thought it would have been better to simply let him give away the information, over the next few days, until we knew all we needed to. The elders disagreed. They said the information had to be found now—since the attack from Pein, and my indisposed state, our village has become weakened. Our barriers are low and the amounts of missions we've had have been slowly diminishing. I'm well now, thank you for asking, but Konoha is still weak. We _need _that information."

She hesitated for a moment, peering into her drink, before picking it up and downing in instantly. Hinata watched her, obviously deep in thought, and then Tsunade had an idea. A brilliant idea, in her opinion, but one that she knew the Hyuuga wouldn't like at all.

"…_however_," Tsunade began again, her voice suddenly cheerful, and Hinata glanced up at the change of tone, instantly suspicious. "I'm sure I could _convince _the village elders to change their minds—of course, I could only do that if _someone _got the information from Uchiha Sasuke."

Hinata clicked immediately—Tsunade could tell by the dawning realization on her face, followed by the shock and disgust. Then the younger girl's eyes flickered downwards, staring off to the right, to the left, upwards, and then finally back at Tsunade.

"…that could t—take weeks; up to _f—fifty days_, in fact."

_Oh._

Tsunade narrowed her eyes—two could play at that game. Hinata could haggle and bargain as much as she wanted, as long as the job was finished in the long run, and that information was safely in the Hokage's hands.

"And what if Uchiha S—Sasuke is too wary to give out that i—information? What happens then?" Hinata asked, pressing her fingertips together nervously. "What if he just d—doesn't trust me enough to tell me a—anything as private as that?"

"If I don't get that information, Hinata, I'll _personally _beat it out of the brat."

Hinata was torn, that was for sure—on one hand, she could save Sasuke any hurt and pain; because she hated to see _anyone _in pain; as long as she attempted to extract that information from Sasuke. She'd be visiting him with a hidden agenda, and she didn't like that. On the other hand, if she didn't get that information from him, the Hokage would be the one torturing him, and she wasn't sure whether or not that was worse, or better, than Ibiki.

If she was anyone else, she'd agree with that second one, instantly—she'd know that Sasuke could take a kicking, but keep on ticking. Even though she'd see him beat up and bloodied, she'd know he was laughing and smiling through the pain. She'd just be going to visit a friend.

She wondered, briefly, what Naruto would do.

Then she decided.

"I'll get that information from him, Lady H—Hokage; on one condition. _No one _harms a hair on Uchiha S—Sasuke's head."

Tsunade grinned.

"Done."

**.**

**.**

Hyuuga Neji pushed past another obnoxiously loud woman, who'd attempted to thank him for rescuing her cat, or some other heroic deed, and cursed the loudness of his village. He'd spent most of the day thinking about his cousin, knowing something was bothering her and generally wondering what it was. Not in a nosy way, of course; he didn't want to find out and gossip, or whisper rumours about her.

He just wanted to know what made his cousin worry like that.

She wouldn't admit she was worried, though; she'd tell him she'd just been thinking about things—she might even throw Naruto's name in there, if she was brave enough—but she wouldn't tell him what was actually wrong. He knew her well enough to tell that something was bothering her; she was _never _distracted when sparring; she _always _put her heart into it. She never gave up as easily as that.

He sighed and ground to a halt, placed his hands in his pockets and then turned around, ready to head back to the Hyuuga mansion and wait for her there; why he hadn't just decided to do that in the first place, he'd never know.

"Neji?" A familiar voice drawled, before chuckling lazily. "You know, I thought you _never _left your bedroom."

"You've been watching me sleep again, Hatake," Neji replied frostily, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and instead keeping his face carefully blank.

"The world has got to be ending," Hatake Kakashi murmured, dropping down from his branch, where he'd been perched above the Hyuuga; the shinobi pushed one hand into his pockets, the other hand clutching that infamous book, and peered at Neji through his visible eye. "…because I think you just made a joke."

"You are hilarious, Hatake," the Hyuuga finished, turning and beginning to walk in the opposite direction; he was vaguely annoyed, but not at all surprised, to see that the silver-haired shinobi followed him, keeping up with the other's stride easily.

Kakashi smiled, flipping a page in his book whilst indiscreetly studying the other man. "No need to be so snappy, Neji; I was merely wondering why you'd finally decided to come and see the sun." He paused, quirking an eyebrow. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I am well."

"Really? Ino told me you were ill—she said Hinata came and picked up some flowers for you. I guess you're fine now, though."

Neji blinked, raising an eyebrow; he hadn't been ill, at all. In fact, he'd been perfectly well all week, and Kakashi knew it, too—they'd been on a mission together, nothing big, just a simple delivery to Sunagakure. Naruto was supposed to have gone, instead of Neji, but he'd been… _indisposed, _and so Neji had gone with Kakashi—it had been alright, as far as missions went, albeit too hot.

That meant that either Hinata had lied about him being ill, and bought flowers for someone else or Ino was lying. In his opinion, it was more likely to be the latter; but, if it was the former, he wasn't in a position where he should start prying into Hinata's private affairs. If she wanted to tell him something, she'd tell him.

That was that.

"…I _was_ ill, earlier," he lied, because he was a kind cousin and now Hinata owed him. "But you are right—I am fine, now. Are there any other rumours you would like me to confirm?"

Kakashi simply smiled.

"Not at the moment, but I'll be sure to come back to you later."

**.**

**.**

"Uchiha Sasuke, you have a visitor," Ibiki called, rapping on the glass window with his knuckle, irritated when the Uchiha didn't respond; he turned away, watching as Hyuuga Hinata settled down in her usual chair, her hands folded in her lap, gazing beneath her long lashes at the floor. He wondered, briefly, what they talked about, the unusual pair.

One with eyes milky-white, the other as black as night.

He decided he didn't particularly care. He placed his hand heavily on Hinata's shoulder as he passed her, on his way to the door—he felt her stiffen, before relaxing, and felt her shoulders rise and fall, as her breathing slowed. His hand lingered on her shoulder for a second, and he wondered whether or not to say something; then he simply sighed and turned away. He nodded briefly at the ANBU as he passed, before slipping out of the door.

There was a moment of silence, in which the ANBU exchanged glances, and then Sasuke looked up, lifting his head wearily—his eyes met Hinata's, and then she was scanning his features, checking for any cuts or bruises. He raised an eyebrow slightly.

"You're back."

"A—Are you going to say that every time I visit y—you, Sasuke?" She smiled slightly, not quite meeting his eyes, still checking to see if he was fine.

He smirked dryly. "Probably."

Hinata laughed softly and finally looked straight at him; for a brief second, her eyes were blank—then she beamed warmly at him, and her eyes were filled with kindness and happiness. His gaze strayed from her face, flicking over to the two ANBU members; they stared impassively back at him, before nodding at one another and then leaving the room, bidding Hinata goodbye as they did so. She nodded respectfully, clasping her hands together, and the room fell silent again.

His gaze lingered on the door for a while, before returning to Hinata's face—she seemed lost in thought. He frowned. "Talk to me."

"What a—about?" Her voice was distant. She couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Anything," he murmured. "Tell me anything."

She folded her hands again, shifted slightly in her seat, and then opened her mouth to speak. "I… I m—met Naruto, yesterday…"

He was barely aware of the fact that she'd stopped speaking; almost immediately, his shoulders had tensed. He pursed his lips, frowning slightly, obviously uncomfortable, but didn't say anything. Instead, he waited.

"I met with him yesterday. He was… s—suitably upset, I g—guess," Hinata glanced at Sasuke briefly, met his stony gaze, and then peered down at her feet, nervously. "I'm not going to a—ask why you left; why you _r—really _left; because I don't think I'll u—understand. N—Not yet, at least. Maybe… maybe if you _talk _to me; because, at the moment, I'm the o—only one you _can _talk to."

Sasuke didn't respond.

"I know I'm not the kind of p—person you'd talk to normally," Hinata continued, biting her lip and pressing her fingers together. "I mean, we barely spoke before now. You w—were the kind of person I secretly admired; you were the k—kind of person I was scared of. To me, I suppose y—you were just like my cousin, N—Neji. I wanted to speak to y—you, but you were so strong and so p—powerful, and I didn't want to s—seem like an annoying fan. I'd seen how the p—parents looked at you, and seen how the g—girls looked at you, and I didn't want to pressure you anymore. I knew how s—squashed you must feel, with everyone looking at you, and I didn't want to… I just… I w—want to understand you."

Sasuke hesitated, surveying the girl before him—head lowered, hair falling across her face, hands clasped together, trembling slightly—and thought. He knew barely anything about her. He knew nothing about what she liked, what she disliked, who she was, what she did—other than the obvious. Other than the smallest whispered words—other than the briefest facts. He knew next to nothing about her; he didn't have any proper, concrete facts.

He simply had opinion. And, in his opinion, she seemed fine. The kind of girl that a mother would love. The kind of girl who smiled at everyone, whenever she wanted to. The kind of girl who'd pay for someone else's lunch, if they didn't have enough. The kind of girl who visited a stranger, for fifty days, until his death—simply because no one else could.

But he didn't trust her, not completely, not yet.

His frown disappeared and his expression turned carefully blank, but Hinata didn't look up. Instead, she continued fidgeting, beginning to play with the hem of her jacket; he hesitated again, unsure of what to say.

"…I can't."

She looked up, and her eyes were wide, but understanding.

He lowered his gaze, gazing at her from underneath his lashes, scanning her face for any change in expression—and as he stared at her, he realized he was waiting for her to look angry, to look shocked or hurt; he was waiting for her to jump up, enraged, and demand the information from him. He was waiting for it, but he knew it wouldn't happen.

"I can't; not now."

She nodded. "I understand. I can w—wait."

He quirked his head, tilting it to the side, scanning Hinata frostily—but she didn't squirm underneath his gaze, like he'd expected. He was waiting for a catch. And, as he waited, he wondered when he'd stopped trusting people. He wondered when he'd stopped believing that everyone wanted something from him, for a hidden reason.

He sighed. It was a weary, tired sigh—completely exhausted. He wanted desperately to stretch his legs—to walk around—to look at anything except Hinata—but he didn't say anything. The Hyuuga stared at him, before glancing to the side and opening her mouth to speak.

"When I was younger, I spent most of m—my time on my own; I didn't really play with other children. I wasn't really a—allowed to join in with their games; my father was protective of me, b—back then. He didn't want me to stray t—too far away from his watchful gaze; he wanted me to stay near to him, all the time. I found it annoying then. I m—miss it now."

She paused.

He waited for her to continue, unsure of the relevance of her story.

"Even so, when I was s—small, I wanted to join in with everyone. I remember watching the other girls—Sakura a—and Ino—and wanting to be just like t—them, but far too shy to join in. I liked the way Ino could do whatever she w—wanted, and people adored her; I liked the way S—Sakura was smart and brave, and everyone wanted to t—talk to her. I wanted to be like them. But my father s—suffocated me, holding onto me so tightly, and I stopped trying to be like them. I never spoke to them. I g—guess I missed my chance. If I'd talked to them then, I wonder if I'd be in the s—same position as I am now; if I'd be as shy and b—bashful as I am now."

She bit her lip.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, you can speak to m—me. You're not shy or b—bashful; you're strong. You can speak to me, b—because no one… there's no one there to s—suffocate you now. You can… You can do w—whatever you want. You can talk to me."

She stood up, dusted herself down, and then turned away, moving towards the door. Almost immediately, the ANBU slid back into the room, slipping back to their places like shadows—Sasuke watched them for a second, mildly interested, before looking back at Hinata.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and their eyes met, just briefly.

"_Please _talk to me."

And then she left.

**.**

**.**

Neji flicked through his book, gazing at the words and sentences, but not quite taking them in. His thoughts were elsewhere—he was busy thinking of Hinata, wondering what it all meant; she'd been so distracted during their sparring session, and then he'd learnt that she'd been lying, creating stories, covering up something she had done. It was so completely unlike her, and it worried him.

Greatly.

He closed his book gently, placing it on his bedside table, and then considered changing out of his Hyuuga robes; he'd planned on doing some training, this time without a partner, but hadn't gotten round to it. He frowned, turned onto his back, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to think anymore. He trusted his cousin to do the right thing, no matter what, and that was it.

There was a knock on his bedroom door.

He straightened almost instantly, checking his robes were neat and then stood up, walking over to the door. He placed his hand on the knob and smiled, despite himself.

Hinata was predictable, sometimes.

He pulled the door open and, sure enough, there stood his cousin, her fingers pressed together, blushing and looking guilty. She glanced up at him, smiled weakly, and then gestured towards the training grounds.

"I know its l—late, but I've had time to think and… And I'd like to train, if you w—want to. If that's okay. You d—don't have to, and I understand if you don't w—want to. And I know… I know I can t—talk to you, but I can't now. Not right now. S—Soon, maybe."

His face softened into a smile.

Sometimes, his cousin was so adorably _predictable_.

**

* * *

**

**notes**3**: **"i enjoy implied one sided nejihina. do you? you do. i know. i know these things."


	6. day o6

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**: **"kindofnotreally romances for the win."  
**notes**2**:** "don't expect any fairytale endings here."  
**chapter: **o**6**/5o

* * *

Aburame Shino did not speak to many people.

In fact, when he was not training with his teammates, or completing a mission for his village, he spent most of his time alone, in his room; he was most comfortable there. He did not get lonely easily. In all honesty, it was very difficult to get lonely, since he had a variety of insects living inside his body—breathing in time with his breathing, hearts thumping in perfect synchronization.

No, Shino treasured solitude above all else in his life, excluding his friends and family—and, of course, excluding his precious bugs—because he never _was_ alone. He did not particularly think of them as 'bugs'. The word seemed vile and ugly. It was wrong. It certainly did not describe the beautiful, intelligent insects living inside his body.

He classed them as his 'friends', along with Hinata and Kiba and all of the other shinobi he associated with on a regular basis.

Although he would never tell either of his teammates, he was entirely certain he knew more about the insects living inside of him more than he did about them. It had nothing to do with which he liked better—when it came to that competition, Hinata won by a landslide (perhaps due to the fact that he had once been irrevocably in love with her), followed closely by Kiba—it was simply due to the fact that the insects were there all of the time. The insects never left. Sometimes, a few would leave, to pollinate plants or mate; even so, half would remain behind, feasting on chakra, relaxed and peaceful.

They did not speak; in fact, it was more of a vibe the bugs gave out. At first, it would be a low, dull hum, which signalled content; he heard this noise every minute of every single day. His father, after he had once complained about it, explained that he would simply have to get used to the noise.

When the insects were angry, the buzz grew louder. It became more of a pulse then. It would send chills through his body and make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, almost like static electricity. When the insects were ready to attack, the pulse would become unbearable; the insects would be moving about inside him, flitting around, unsettled and impatient. Pain, like a million pricks of a pin, would fill his body. He dealt with it, though, because that was what shinobi did.

Suffer in silence.

If there was one thing he had learnt from Hinata, it was that. Better to suffer in silence than speak to a friend—better to zip your lips than worry someone else. Yet still, he wished Hinata would talk to him, in the same way she spoke to Kiba—more like a brother, than a teammate. She would never admit it, but he was sure she was still scared of him.

Not only could Shino tell the insects emotions, they could also feel his. When he was upset, they throbbed. The noise dimmed down, but the insects kept moving—slowly, cautiously, as though they simply wanted to remind him that they were there, as his friends as well as weapons.

When he was happy, they sung.

The only downfall with the fact that his body was a host to living creatures was the constant noise. The humming—the buzzing. Although he knew he'd be much more upset when it finally vanished, when his days as a shinobi were finally over, he loathed it, and the constant ache in his head that came with it. Sakura had spent an amount of time attempting to find some kind of remedy to the constant headaches, which all of the Aburame clan suffered from, but it had been useless.

That day, Shino was lying on his back in his bedroom, across the floor, gazing at the ceiling. His tinted sunglasses were perched on a pile of books beside his bed, not too far to the left of his head; his hands were clasped across his chest, and he was breathing slowly. He traced the patterns on the ceiling for a moment, idly wasting time, waiting for something interesting to happen.

It did not happen often, but he was bored.

His eyes travelled across the ceiling and down the walls, resting briefly on each of his potted plants; expertly, his eyes scanned the soil, deciding whether or not it was moist enough. His father had explained the need for plants—or, more specifically, flowers—due to the fact that bees and wasps were often used for attacking. He was Ino's number one customer, she'd told him time and time again; despite the fact that it seemed embarrassing to admit, he'd been rather proud of that fact.

He heaved a sigh, his gaze flicking back to the ceiling. His bedroom wasn't the most interesting of places; it was dull, to say the least. There was one bookshelf, positioned in the right corner—one single bed, positioned below the window. One desk, complete with writing equipment and a chair. Then his wardrobe, beside the door, and a chest filled to the brim with weapons and shinobi gear, as well as any old treasures of his, such as a hairclip Hinata had given him, aged ten and a half, as well as a half-eaten dog treat, from the first time he'd met Kiba and Akamaru.

He was just about to lose himself in a memory, when there was a gentle knock upon his bedroom door. "Shino, there is someone here to see you," his father announced softly, his voice a low monotone.

Shino waited for a moment, silently wishing it was Hinata; no offence to Kiba, but he'd had enough of his loud, obnoxious voice when he'd visited him the last time, a few days ago. He scooped his shades of the floor, pushed them back onto his face, and then pulled himself up off the ground, dusting himself down as he straightened up. There was another knock at the door, this time timid, and he walked over, making sure to tug on his jacket as he did so.

He pulled open the door.

Hinata blinked back at him in surprise, taking in his jacket and his shades, and then smiled sheepishly. "Ah, I didn't know you were going somewhere, Shino—"

"Walk with me."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, easily manoeuvring himself around her, and then continued down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He heard Hinata follow him. He nodded briefly at his father as he passed, before stopping at the door to slip on his shoes and wait for Hinata to catch up. She did so, mumbling a nervous goodbye to his father as she passed him; Shino held open the door, like a true gentleman, waiting for her to pass.

And then they were both outside, walking shoulder to shoulder from the Aburame house towards the marketplace. Neither of them spoke, but that was okay—it was a comfortable silence, the kind that Shino rather enjoyed and never got if he walked with Kiba. He snuck a sideways glance at her, from behind his glasses; she was looking away, somewhere into the distance, and her eyes were troubled.

He frowned slightly. It was unusual. He knew Hinata well enough to know that she wasn't always a happy person—however, usually she hid her negative feelings better than that. He slowed to a halt and she did too, blinking back at him in confusion. "What is troubling you, Hinata?"

"…Uchiha Sasuke." She replied as though she hadn't heard the question. Shino could tell because, the moment she'd realised what she'd said, her eyes had turned wide and startled, and one hand had instantly flown up to her mouth.

He arched an eyebrow.

"I—I mean…! T—that's not…! Oh, I don't know what I m—mean…" Hinata sighed, brushing a few strands of hair away from her forehead and gazing at Shino. "It's just, ever since S—Sasuke was captured, N—N—Naruto barely comes out of his house. I d—don't know what to do—what to _say_—to make it all b—better."

But she was lying.

Shino could tell; her eyes flickered to the side as she spoke and her hands remained utterly still by her side. If there was one thing Hinata never stopped doing, it was fidgeting; and when she stopped fidgeting, something was truly bothering her. He wondered why she'd even bothered with the lie; he was her teammate—her _friend _—he knew her well enough to tell when something was wrong.

She obviously didn't want to talk about it, though, and he wasn't about to force her to do so. He wasn't completely overprotective of her; he wasn't her older brother or her boyfriend, and so he did not feel it was his duty to know everything about her. It was better that she had some secrets. After all, he had his.

And so he played along with the lie, nodding gently. "It is entirely normal for one who has lost a precious person to behave like this. Due to the fact that I have never had such an unfortunate thing happen to me, I cannot give you any advice on this matter. I assume Naruto will get used to the fact that Uchiha Sasuke will never be released."

He glanced at Hinata.

She was worried about Sasuke—although, of course, he should have expected as much from a girl like Hinata. She was the kind of person who had enough feelings to feel for everyone, if that even made sense; and, as Shino thought about it, it didn't really. But it was still true. As complex and unreasonable as the idea sounded, it summed Hinata and her aching heart up perfectly.

And that was what he truly loved about her.

He sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Her eyes widened as she snuck a quick glance at him, and he could see the alarm bells ringing in her head. She knew he didn't believe her, but he was far too kind to mention it. He wanted to, more than anything—he wanted to place his hand on her shoulder and tell her she could tell him anything—and he knew _Kiba_ would have done it—but he just couldn't.

Something in Hinata's eyes was telling him not to ask. And, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. So he gave up, instead choosing to change the subject tactfully.

"…was there something you wished to ask me, Hinata?" He asked finally, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and glaring sullenly away; to anyone else, it would have looked as though Shino were sulking. "After all, you did arrive at my house completely without warning."

She blinked and her gaze softened. For a second, she seemed thankful; her posture relaxed and she too placed her hands in her jacket pockets, albeit not for long—within seconds, she was tugging nervously on a strand of hair.

"Oh, I just w—wanted to see how you were. We haven't spoken in a w—while."

Then she flashed him that smile, and he felt his heartbreak all over again. She was too kind—unreasonably kind, to the point of being cruel—and the most ironic thing was the fact that she wasn't even aware of it. She wasn't at all aware of the fact that he'd dreamt only of her eyes and her smile and just _her_ for five years of his life. She wasn't aware of the fact that he'd tripped head of heels in love with her at the age of thirteen, before finally giving up.

He did a lot of that, when it came to Hinata—_giving up._

For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to reply; not because of anything sappy, like he felt too sad to or felt such overwhelming passion for her. It was due to the fact that he'd done it again; he'd given up, instead of being there for her, when what she really needed was a friend.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

He smiled slightly, pushing his shades back up his nose. "I am fine, Hinata. And yourself…?" He replied, and they began walking again, shoulder to shoulder, talking about nothing and everything all at once.

As he listened to her voice, the buzzing in his head died down to a low hum.

**.**

**.**

Hinata pressed her forehead against the cool glass of her bedroom window and heaved a sigh, smiling to herself as she closed her eyes. It had been nice to see Shino, that was true, but she hadn't really wanted to leave the house at all that day—she'd been feeling low. She shifted slightly, so that she was kneeling, and peered out of the window.

It had begun to rain; only slightly. It pattered across the ground, leaving a fine mist of water as it hit the paths; she watched idly as raindrops trickled down her window. Outside, Neji was stood with his female teammate, Tenten, holding an umbrella over her head—she was speaking animatedly but, no matter how much Neji gestured, was refusing to go inside. Hinata rolled her eyes, her smile widening slightly.

She liked Tenten. Tenten was the kind of girl who said whatever was on her mind; she was trustworthy and kind and, above all, completely honest. No matter who she spoke to, whether they were young or old, she could tell them things about themselves they'd never want to hear, without batting an eyelash. That didn't mean she was rude, or cruel—generally, she only said those things when she was asked to, or when the need arose. She didn't tend to speak to Hinata, unless she was waiting for Neji—but, when she did, she was entertaining, to say the least.

Tenten made Hinata wish she made more of an effort to speak to the other kunoichi; it seemed like fun to have a friend like that. A girl to talk to, to giggle with, to relax with after a mission—but she wasn't close enough to any of the girls in Konoha to do something like that. It seemed _wrong_—far too intimate for her to just join in.

The rain began to pick up. She huffed, leaning her elbow against the window and resting her chin on her hands. She watched, mildly interested, as Neji looked upwards, gazing at the dark clouds; and the rain trickled down his face, soaking his hair and dampening his clothes.

Tenten slapped his shoulder, scolding him. From her position, Hinata could almost make out the words but, knowing Tenten, Neji was probably being told off for standing out in the rain, without an umbrella. Sure enough, his teammate scooted closer towards Neji, tugging the umbrella over both of their heads—and Hinata watched as Neji tensed slightly, obviously concerned about the close contact. Then the playful bickering resumed, and he pushed the other lightly away, stepping backwards.

Hinata giggled, watching Tenten scowl and stomp her foot with an exaggerated playfulness. It was cute—_they_ were cute, like something out of a book. They wouldn't be perfect together—no, she wasn't as cliché as to say something like _that_—but they'd be pretty close. Neji would enjoy his alone time, every now and then, sat there reading a book; and Tenten would hassle him and bother him until he finally gave in, closing the book with a snap and scolding her without any real malice.

They wouldn't be perfect together—not fairytale perfect, because everyone has their ups and downs—but Hinata was sure they'd be the closest thing, if they gave it a try.

But they wouldn't, not any time soon, at least; because Neji was far too proud and Tenten was far too stubborn. They'd talk and laugh and flirt, and Lee would ultimately end up feeling like the third wheel, the spare part, but they would never admit having any feelings, other than a sibling-like relationship, with the other.

The rain became almost torrential, within a matter of minutes. She watched as Neji placed the umbrella's handle in Tenten's hands, his fingers lingering against hers for just a moment longer than usual, before turning and walking away. She stood there, frozen for a second, before hastily shouting something about returning his umbrella. Neji just shrugged, his back to her, lifting a hand in farewell. Tenten span on her heels, biting her lip and smiling gingerly to herself, walking briskly in the opposite direction, clutching the umbrella tightly.

Hinata smiled, sliding away from the window and sprawling across her bed. She gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, unsure of what to do with herself, before sitting bolt upright. She was exhausted—she'd been far too stressed out lately, and she just wanted to have a little bit of fun, just for a little while.

And she knew exactly what she was going to do.

**.**

**.**

Kiba generally quite liked the rain. He liked the fact that it was cool against his skin—the fact that it splashed across the windowpanes and the ground and the plants—the fact that, once it was all done and over, it remained behind, as dew drops and puddles. He liked the fact that, when the sun and rain mixed, they created a rainbow.

It was simple and beautiful, but he awfully liked the rain.

He just didn't particularly like the idea of his best friend catching hypothermia, as he stood under cover in his doorway, watching as Hinata strolled idly around his backyard. He scratched awkwardly at Akamaru's ear, unsure of what to do.

She'd turned up at his door like usual, timid and pretty, blushing as he flirted casually with her, joking and pulling her hair every now and then. They'd retreated to his bedroom—after he'd insisted to both his mother _and_ his sister that, no, he _didn't _want to take advantage of her, because he wasn't like _that_; which had amused Hinata to no end, as well as made her blush and look away. After talking for a while, about normal things; like what she'd done today and how much training he'd managed to do; she'd become fidgety—more so than usual.

She'd sat on his bed, looking anywhere but at him, playing with the hem of her jacket, and then her hair, and then pressing her fingers together with such force that her knuckles turned white. He'd raised an eyebrow.

"What's up?" He'd asked, all naïve and innocent and wondering what was going on.

And Hinata had gazed into dead into his eyes, before smiling.

"I w—want to go _outside."_

So he'd ended up chasing her down the stairs, informing her that maybe that wasn't the best idea, since it really was tipping it down—but Hinata hadn't wanted to listen. She'd bowed her head respectfully, before scooting past him and unlocking the door to the garden. He'd watched in utter disbelief as she'd wandered outside.

She was soaked within minutes.

And so now he was waiting for her to tire herself out—waiting for her to eventually get bored of gazing at flowers and rosebushes. He watched as she walked around in a full circle, her hands swinging beside her, gazing at everything with disinterest—and then she stopped. She tilted her head back, and her hair fell away from her face.

Standing completely still in the middle of Kiba's garden, Hinata tilted her head back and simply let the rain fall across her face.

Kiba raised an eyebrow, folding his arms and staring curiously at his friend. This wasn't like Hinata—as she stood there, her shoulders tensed and her hands balled into fists. It was as though she'd realised something—realised something _bad_—and Kiba understood why she'd appeared at his front door.

She wanted to forget about the bad thing, if only for a little while.

"What happens when you get to know someone, but you know you'll never truly be their friend because they'll be gone before you know it?"

Kiba blinked, surprised at how clear and steady her voice was—he could hear it over the rain; it was her voice, even so. High-pitched. No stuttering, which meant she was utterly serious. He frowned, reluctant to come out from underneath the cover of his doorway—but then Hinata glanced briefly at him, and lilac eyes captured his.

"How does _that_ story end?"

He cursed softly underneath his breath, threw up one hand to cover his head to the best of his ability, and then wandered out into the rain, as quickly as he could. He reached Hinata within seconds. Up close, she was no where near as collected as she'd seemed—her clothes were soaked through and she was shivering; but her eyes were steady and firm, even though her bottom lip wobbled.

He crossed his fingers that she wouldn't cry—because he _hated_ it when girls did that—and wrapped his arms cautiously around her. Almost instantly, he felt her fingers clutch the back of his shirt, and her shaking became more obvious.

He glanced upwards, briefly, wondering what to do—and then, without really understanding it, he stepped backwards, pulling Hinata with him. Then to the side—then forwards; travelling around the garden in a box shape, all the while holding her close. He continued for a second, before she peered up at him, one eyebrow arched.

"What are you d—doing?"

Her stutter had arrived—he found himself relieved. She was probably okay now. He grinned at her, baring his teeth. "I'm dancing with a pretty lady, _duh._"

He returned to stepping again, concentrating on moving in a circle and not stepping on her feet—he gingerly pulled one of her hands from his back, latching them together. Then he continued, keeping time to a rhythm in his head. One step, two step, three step, turn—one step, two step, three step, turn.

Kiba scowled, his nose twitching as he frowned in disgust.

"…dancing is harder than I thought."

He was glad to hear Hinata laugh; a nice little giggle, which turned into a full happy laugh, her shoulders shaking with joy instead of sadness. His grin widened, and he grasped her hand, spinning her easily on the spot—for a few seconds, she came close to toppling; then she steadied herself and curtseyed sweetly, before breaking into giggles.

He grinned, pulling her back towards him and returning to his dance, as the rain soaked them; it was getting colder, and darker, and he couldn't help but wonder how long they'd been out there. He shrugged to himself, still smiling—whatever, it didn't matter; it was his _job_ to cheer up Hinata, when she was blue.

After all, if he didn't do it, who else would? Shino was a nice guy and all, but he was always so caught up with the past—dreaming of dreams that would never come true, or something. He'd had that childish crush on Hinata for the best part of his Genin years, and Kiba didn't really think he'd quite gotten over it. Sometimes, when the other thought no one was watching, Kiba spotted the other boy staring at her.

…then again, that could be nothing.

Shino stared at _everyone._

All of a sudden, Hinata pushed away, her eyes wide and filled with horror, as though she'd remembered something awful. She took a few steps backwards, moving towards the door.

Kiba raised an eyebrow. "…what? Do I stink, or something?"

She giggled despite herself, placing one hand elegantly over her mouth as she did so. "No, it's n—nothing like that, Kiba. I just… I just r—remembered I promised to do something for a… a _f—friend. _And, if I don't hurry, I'm g—going to be too late to do it. I think that would r—really upset him."

He blinked.

…_him?_

He didn't get a chance to ask Hinata though because, when he looked up, she'd disappeared, and the backdoor was swinging open in the wind. She'd no doubt trekked mud all through the house—there'd probably be puddles of water waiting for him to clear up, before his mother realised and started attacking him with cooking utensils again. Sometimes, it really sucked to have a kick-ass kunoichi as a mother.

Then again, it'd meant he never got bullied as a kid.

**.**

**.**

Ibiki raised an eyebrow at the completely drenched girl in front of him—she was clutching her jacket around her body, shivering profoundly and biting her lip. Her hair clung to her forehead, sopping wet, and she flicked it out of her vision half-heartedly, obviously longing to be back at home, in the warmth.

"…I thought you weren't going to show."

Hinata sighed, hopping from one foot to the other, rubbing her hands on her arms. "Stop saying that, I—Ibiki. I'm _always _going to show."

He rolled his eyes. "Really, now? And nothing I can do will change your mind, right?"

Ibiki rolled his eyes again at her firm nod, smiling slightly.

"Ah, whatever. You're a stubborn kid, Hinata, but you're not that bad. I kind of like you, in fact, and it'd really suck if you caught hypothermia. The least you could have done was change into dry clothes. What have you done all day, just stood out in the rain?"

She glanced sheepishly away. "…it was n—nice this morning."

Ibiki barked a laugh and Hinata instantly flinched away.

"Never trust the weather—it's like a _woman."_

**.**

**.**

Sasuke gazed up from underneath his fringe, watching as Hinata settled herself into her usual position. She was soaked—completely drenched. Briefly, he wondered what she'd been doing, but he saw from her flushed cheeks that it was no doubt something entertaining, probably with her friends.

"…I thought you weren't going to show."

She huffed indignantly, crossing her arms and pouting childishly. "Why do people keep on s—saying that?"

He chuckled, shaking his head gently, before shifting slightly, attempting to get comfortable; it was difficult, in a straightjacket. He found himself missing the brief moment when he'd been let out of the cursed thing, despite the fact that it _had_ been to get tortured—at least his arms had had a moment to breathe. He hissed a curse beneath his breath, though it was muffled by the glass.

He still saw Hinata frown slightly.

"…Sasuke…? Are you a—alright?"

She leaned forwards, attempting to get a better look at him, and he knew she was looking for more signs of torture. He scowled; from being an S-rank missing nin, he'd fallen to being cared for by a trembling, stuttering kunoichi?

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"I'm _fine_."

Hinata looked crestfallen. "…oh."

They both fell silent, gazing in opposite directions. Sasuke scowled, glowering sulkily at the wall above her head—out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the first ANBU shake her head slowly, before leaving the room and beckoning for her fellow ANBU to follow her.

Sasuke's scowl intensified.

That probably meant it was time for him to apologise, right? To change the subject and ask her about her day, or something. He didn't know—he didn't particularly care. He'd had time to think about it and, the more he thought about it, the more he thought this entire visitor thing was a stupid idea.

Firstly, he should never have shoved that kind of responsibility on Hinata. She had to take an hour out of each day to speak to a dead man, about things she probably didn't even care about. She had _friends. _She had a _family. _It was probably morally wrong and selfish of him to blackmail her into visiting him each day, using the fact that he was—_used to be_—Naruto's best friend.

And secondly, he was Uchiha _Sasuke. _He'd killed _Itachi. _He'd killed _Orochimaru. _He'd killed a member of the Akatsuki. He'd accomplished more than she'd ever do in her lifetime, no doubt. And yet, _she _was the one concerned over _his _wellbeing?

_She _was the one protecting _him?_

It was a major blow to his pride—it was stupid and foolish, and he was childish for believing that they'd ever become friends in such a short space of time. He was childish for thinking he'd get anything out of her visits, as well.

And then she spoke, and he made himself forget about all of that, because he did like the sound of her voice, even if her stutter annoyed him.

"Do you l—like the rain, Sasuke?"

He paused, his eyes flickering to her face; then he shrugged as best as he could in his restraints. "It means nothing to me. I don't like it, but I don't dislike it."

"I used to r—really love the rain. I used to spend ages outside, in my wellingtons, and I u—used to stomp in all of the puddles and j—jump for joy whenever I saw a r—rainbow. Kiba told me once that r—rainbows are the most beautiful things he's ever s—seen, because they're so simple. He said that they shimmer and s—shine in the sky; and the flowers can be as p—pretty as they want to be, and Ino can wear the fanciest c—clothes and the most make-up; but simple is much p—prettier. It's beautiful. That's why r—rainbows are beautiful. And that's why I l—like the rain. Because as miserable as it m—makes you feel, and as cold as you get, y—you know there's always going to be a r—rainbow at the end of it all."

Hinata fell silent, clasping her hands and gazing down at her feet; it was in that way that she reminded him of a young child. She could say something so enchanting and intelligent, but still she'd gaze downwards, obviously seeking approval. Waiting to know if what she'd said was right. Waiting to apologise if she was wrong.

Sasuke smirked. "Is that so?"

"…It's what K—Kiba said."

"…_really? _Because, if I remember correctly, Kiba was a complete _moron_, just like Naruto, who could barely string a sentence together," Sasuke stated blankly, "_right?_"

"K—Kiba isn't a m—moron!"

"…of _course."_

Hinata frowned at him, her eyebrows meeting neatly in the middle of her forehead as she attempted to think of an intelligent comeback. It was true—the concept of the idea had been Kiba's, but the words were hers. Her friends had always said she was good with words; Neji had said it was a skill she possessed.

She didn't really believe that to be true, but she wasn't about to complain.

She met Sasuke's mocking gaze, still searching for something she could say to turn the entire conversation around in Kiba's favour, but came up with nothing. She settled for folding her arms and sulking, kicking her legs backwards and forwards and thinking of something else to say.

"You're right."

She blinked, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at Sasuke. "…about Kiba?"

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "About _rainbows. _They are beautiful, that's true—but they fade away all too quickly. You have to sit through hours of rain, just to see a few minutes of beauty?"

Silence, and then—

"…is it _really_ worth it?"

Hinata's eyes widened, as she remembered her words from earlier.

"_How does _that_ story end?"_

She paused, uncertain of what to say; it wasn't the type of question she could answer. It was confusing; it was one of those questions with far too many answers. A simple yes would no doubt suffice, and an equally simple no would probably work just as well.

But there wasn't a simple answer, to either question.

And so she simply smiled, standing up and slipping off her jacket—she balled the sleeves up in her fists, wringing them out, before repeating the actions with the rest of her jacket, until it was only damp. She dusted herself down, despite the fact that there was no need to, and walked towards the door. When she reached the door, she glanced backwards, over her shoulder, and flashed another sweet smile at Sasuke.

"That's your_ own _opinion, Sasuke—_you decide."_

**.**

**.**

As she stepped out of the prison, into the fresh air, she realised it wasn't raining. Grey clouds remained in the sky, hanging above her ominously, threatening to burst at any moment—but as she strolled home, the birds sang and the sun shone.

A rainbow stretched overhead.

It shimmered in the sunlight, beautiful, its colours arching over Konoha—and then, slowly, gradually, it began to fade away.

And it began to rain again.


	7. day o7

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**: **"OH. MY. _GAWD. _101 REVIEWS? you are babes. all of you. and because of your loveliness, and the fact that i am giddy with happiness, i offer you all another chapter"  
**chapter: **o**7**/5o

* * *

Tsunade was a smart woman—bossy and obnoxiously loud at times, yes, and manipulative, if you asked Jiraiya; she'd been described by other shinobi as hot-headed and outspoken—but, above all, she was intelligent.

When she'd first become Hokage, she'd simply sat in her office—and she'd had to remind herself time and time again that it was _her _office now; it no longer belonged to Sarutobi, with his wrinkled forehead and warm smile. It belonged to her. She'd sat at the desk, sorting through the folders and files, flipping through bingo books, until she'd found herself unable to think of anything else to do; and so she had begun to pace, simply brushing her fingertips along surfaces. It was as though she could feel the decisions that had been made in that room; made by others, as well as herself—and the decisions she was going to have to make.

She'd ended her pacing by flopping back into her seat, suddenly exhausted. She'd stopped thinking of the events that had happened—of that brat, Naruto, and his bratty mentor, Jiraiya—and she'd let her mind turn blank. She'd slumped back in the chair, idly pulling open a drawer, searching for something to stop her from thinking altogether.

She'd found herself a bottle of sake—probably something Sarutobi had been saving, she'd mused, as she'd popped the bottle open and taken a swig. As she'd sat there, drinking her troubles away, letting her mind turn fuzzy and her vision go blurred, she'd spun her chair around, peering out of the window at the village.

_Her _village.

She'd seen all of the lights, flickering behind closed curtains and in doorways—all of the people tucked safely in bed, depending on her. Relying on her. The weight of her newfound responsibility had dawned on her then, as she'd realised that every single person in that village trusted her.

She couldn't run anymore.

Her responsibility was great, and she could either be crushed by it, or carry it easily upon her shoulders. No matter what, she wouldn't give up. She'd hold her head high and take whatever was thrown at her.

She had people relying on her, now. Her life no longer revolved around gambling—the most important thing wasn't whether or not she had a bed for the night, or food for herself and Shizune. That no longer mattered. She couldn't put herself first anymore—there were so many other people to think of. Had she been anyone else, Tsunade might have placed her head in her hands and sobbed bitterly into the night. But she wasn't anyone else.

In fact, she'd simply drunk herself into a stupor.

She'd woken up entirely naked, sprawled across the Hokage's desk, with Shizune stood in front of her, looking absolutely horrified.

Despite her sometimes reckless and irresponsible personality, Tsunade was definitely crafty. Since then, she'd matured greatly; she'd learnt ways to get what she wanted, without openly stating what she'd wanted. She'd learnt how to change the opinions of an entire room, of an entire _village,_ in her favour. She'd learnt to that every single person in Konoha was different—every single person had a valid opinion—and she had learnt how to treat each person. She'd learnt how to compromise.

There'd been times where she'd stopped smiling—where she'd wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest her head in her hands, and just sleep. There'd been times where she wanted to throw things—to shout and storm and rage, until all of the anger left her. There'd been times when she'd disagreed so vehemently—when her opinion had been belittled and trodden upon—and she'd simply had to grit her teeth and bear it.

But that was part of being the Hokage, and with every frown, there came a happy face—with every shout of rage, there came a cry of triumph—with every raised fist, there came an outstretched hand of friendship.

With every enemy, there came an ally—a _friend._

The village had agreed that she was a fine Hokage—practically every shinobi had nodded in approval. She'd been compared, occasionally, to the Third; she was already considered greater than the First and Second. She would never live up to the Fourth, but that was okay. That was fine.

She had plenty of time to change their minds.

"Lady Tsunade," Shizune's voice broke through her thoughts and startled her back to reality. "The Council wishes to see you _urgently._"

Tsunade groaned, surreptitiously reaching into an open drawer and pulling out a half-full bottle of sake. She straightened, slipping the alcohol into the inside of her jacket, before walking briskly around her desk. She paused briefly, eyeing Shizune, trying to see from the younger woman's face as to whether the occasion was good or bad—but Shizune's expression was unreadable.

She sighed. "Is it important?"

"I'd assume so," Shizune replied, fiddling idly with Tonton's jacket. "I mean, they don't often call for you out of the blue; normally it takes longer for them to gather the Council together, for a meeting."

"They probably started it without me, then," Tsunade snapped, her brow furrowing as she rushed past her assistant and out of the door—she heard Shizune mumble something, obviously disgruntled, before catching up quickly. "They don't _have _the authority to start a meeting without the Hokage—which means that those old _farts_ are acting on their own again."

"It's about Sasuke."

She frowned, sneaking a sideways glance at her assistant—but Shizune's face was carefully blank, and she avoided Tsunade's gaze.

"…what makes you say that?"

"You've… _disagreed _with the Council on a number of things, concerning the Uchiha—whether it's for the better or the worst, I don't know, but it's a fact that you haven't quite seen eye to eye," Shizune explained, "The most likely scenario is that they disagree absolutely with something you're doing, about the Uchiha, and so they're discussing it together. Lady Tsunade, I think you might have to back down."

"Shizune, if I back any further down, I'll become a coward and they will walk all over me," Tsunade replied steadily, raising an eyebrow as she slowed to a halt outside the grand doors of the Council Hall.

Shizune looked away, sheepishly, knocking briskly on the door; they waited for a moment, listening to the low drone of a Council member speaking, before knocking once again. Finally, there was a reply, and the lock clicked open—the doors began to swing open from the inside, and Tsunade straightened her clothes, dusting herself down and making sure that the sake bottle was entirely hidden from sight.

As she was about to step through the doors, Shizune grasped the hem of her coat, causing her to stagger to a halt, peering back over her shoulder. Her assistant met her eyes.

"I don't think you can win this one, Tsunade."

She pulled away.

"I can _try."_

With that, the doors shut slowly—Tsunade glanced back over her shoulder, spotting her assistant through the narrow gap. Shizune seemed lost in thought; no doubt she was thinking of Uchiha Sasuke, and the trouble he had caused. Or Hinata, and the trouble _she_ had caused. The Hokage snorted softly, shaking her head.

There was something she'd never thought of; Hyuuga Hinata, causing trouble. It was unheard of. Surprising. Ridiculously funny.

Take your pick.

"Lady Hokage, please be seated," someone called, and she strode briskly across the hall, to her seat in front of the rest of the Council.

Konoha Council was actually made up of three people—herself, as the Hokage, an elderly shinobi named Homura Mitokado, and an elderly kunoichi, named Koharu Utatane, both of whom were retired. The rest of the 'Council' were actually just intelligent shinobi, who offered a fresh perspective on the ideas created by the inner circle of the council. Ever since the entire Pein event, Tsunade hadn't quite seen eye to eye with the other Council members on anything—rather than decisions being made, it had turned into a competition; a battle.

It was ridiculous.

Tsunade sat down, gazing directly forwards and meeting the eyes of the other council members; distantly, she spotted Shikamaru's father sat at the back of the hall. Her eyes flickered to the doorway, and there was Shikamaru himself—he'd been present in the meeting before, where Tsunade had been forced to cave in and agree with the Council, that Sakura and Naruto should not meet with Sasuke.

He smiled grimly at her, but otherwise didn't move. She nodded her acknowledgement, waiting for the room to fall entirely silent.

To her left, Homura stood up.

"Lady Hokage," he began, and his voice was soft and low—if he'd been anyone else, his voice would have no doubt put her to sleep; but this was most certainly important, and it was in her best interests to listen closely. "It has come to the Council's attention—"

"—may I first remind the Council that they _cannot_ begin a meeting without the Hokage," Tsunade interrupted, her voice deadly calm, but her eyes betraying the fury she felt. "You do not have the authority to begin a session, without my presence."

"I can assure you, Lady Hokage—it was of entirely important," Homura replied easily, barely offering her a glance and therefore angering her greatly. She was fed up of being dismissed so easily. Even so, she fell silent, waiting for him to continue. "As I was saying, before I was interrupted; it has come to the Council's attention that Uchiha Sasuke—an S-rank criminal, and a traitor to _our _village—has not released any information on the whereabouts of the Akatsuki. In fact, if our information is correct, the youngest Uchiha has not told us _anything._"

Tsunade scowled, linking her hands together and leaning forwards slightly, as she attempted to think of a rebuttal—already she could feel the eyes of Koharu and Homura on her back, arrogant and superior. No, that wasn't quite correct.

After all, they only had the best interests of the village at heart.

"We discussed this at our last meeting concerning the Uchiha, Lady Hokage," Homura continued, "And yet, no progress has been made. An explanation is in order."

Tsunade stood slowly, gathering her thoughts as she attempted to think of a valid argument. Now was not the time to mention Hinata—she hadn't informed the Council of Hinata's involvement, and had sworn Ibiki to secrecy. It would be better that they thought Sasuke was entirely alone, every moment of the day, except from the ANBU. She definitely couldn't mention the fact that he was entertaining a visitor for an hour each day, until his execution.

Still, she expected people would begin to suspect such a thing was happening, after a while—she'd refrained from giving Hinata any missions, so far, in an attempt to free up her evening. Soon, someone would realise that a perfectly good kunoichi was doing nothing each day—perhaps her friends would realise first.

No doubt Shikamaru was already well on his way to working such a thing out.

Her frown darkened, but she cleared her throat and began to speak anyway. "Uchiha Sasuke is a… _stubborn _individual. There is no way he would bow into such torture; he values his pride much more than that. He is stronger than you think—of course, you would assume so, considering the terrible ordeals he has been through, and the horrors he has faced."

"The murder of his clan holds no importance, or relevance, to this issue," Koharu cut softly across, before waving one hand in disinterest. "Continue."

Tsunade narrowed her eyes, gazing frostily forwards. "Perhaps, in _your _opinion, it doesn't—but I _understand_ Uchiha Sasuke, to a certain extent. If he were to show any weakness, after everything he has been through, it would destroy him; and so, there is absolutely no way he will cave in to Ibiki's methods of torture. I believe, if you don't mind me saying, fellow Council members; that we are moving about this in entirely the wrong way."

"And how would you suggest we deal with this _problem_, Tsunade?" Homura asked, but his voice was mocking.

"We let someone he trusts speak to him—let _them_ find out. No doubt, during the time he has left, he will see that he has no choice but to open up and tell us what he knows," Tsunade continued, spreading her arms and gazing at each member of the floor in turn. "Uchiha Sasuke is a hurt, bewildered _child. _He was not _born _a monster. Even now, there is part of him which can still love. There is part of him that _wants_ to open up. But if we back him into a corner, he will hiss and spit and strike out at us like a wild cat."

"You want us to show a traitor such _compassion_, Lady Hokage?" Homura snapped, the disbelief in his voice obviously fake. "Perhaps you have been won over by Uzumaki Naruto's charming smile, but we have not; Sasuke has obviously changed, and he is no longer the person we once knew. Rather, now he _is_ a monster—and, like all monsters, he must be put in his place. He must be slain. You must remember, Lady Hokage; the only reason he has even fifty days, is because you informed us that he would hold information that would help us, as a village. Where is this information? I am beginning to believe it might not be as important as you have made out."

"He no doubt played a part in the destruction of Konoha," Koharu stated blankly, her gaze boring a hole in Tsunade's skull. "He is, after all, a member of Akatsuki. He murdered Orochimaru, one of the greatest minds the world has ever seen."

"Orochimaru was a murderer—he _killed_ the Third Hokage!"

"A minor setback; he could be trained," Koharu replied dismissively, before standing as well, and gazing out at the floor. "Fellow shinobi, if we show Uchiha Sasuke compassion, we will appear cowardly. We cannot allow this to happen."

"As before, Ibiki will question the traitor," Homura continued, pushing his glasses up his nose as he spoke. "All those against this motion, raise your hands now."

Tsunade's hand shot straight into the air, like an arrow; she watched as Shikamaru raised his own hand lazily—but, other than the two of them, there were barely any others who agreed. A few hands, scattered across the Hall, all raised; but not enough.

Not even half.

"All those in favour, raise your hands now."

She could practically hear Homura's smirk, as almost every hand shot up, defiantly, proudly. Her scowl darkened.

At the back of the room, Shikamaru shrugged lazily.

"The questioning of Uchiha Sasuke, by Morino Ibiki, will commence, as of today. This Council meeting has ended. We bid you all farewell."

**.**

**.**

Hinata was practically skipping through Konoha. After the horrendous rain the previous day, the sun had decided to come out and say hello—the weather was relatively warm, and there wasn't even a breeze. In fact, it was pretty much perfect.

She'd planned on going to see Kiba—to perhaps apologise for trekking mud and rainwater all through his house, in her giddy of excitement—but she was distracted by a new trinket shop, which had just opened next to the Yamanaka flower shop. The shop looked pretty intriguing, altogether, with its beaded curtain over the doorway and its pretty little necklaces; sweeping the beads to one side, she stepped through the doorway and into the shop.

An elderly woman bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Good morning, young lady. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Hinata smiled gently, "Thank you, but I'm just browsing, at the moment."

The old woman nodded again, before ducking behind the counter and busying herself with whatever it was she'd been doing before. Hinata, meanwhile, walked slowly down the first isle, gingerly picking up small glass ornaments—one of a swan, the other of a rose—before setting them back on the table. Maybe when she had some more money, she'd return; until then, she'd have to settle for just looking.

She wandered down the second isle, peering at the shelves, and almost bumped into a familiar figure. Hastily apologising, she straightened, and found herself peering into the tear-filled green eyes of Haruno Sakura.

She was holding a glass tomato.

For a few seconds, Hinata couldn't quite see the significance, and so she stood there, mouth agape, simply looking gormless—and then she realised that the only thing that could make Sakura cry in such a way was Uchiha Sasuke. And so, without really realising what she was doing, she gently took the tomato away, placing it back on the shelf, before linking her arm around the taller girl's waist and leading her slowly out of the shop.

Sakura didn't really resist, mumbling a few apologies in the midst of her crying, attempting to explain. Hinata shushed her, murmuring comforting words that she'd never really heard herself say before—"there, there" and "don't worry, it'll all be fine"—little white lies, which comforted the other girl but broke Hinata's heart as she spoke them.

She steered the other girl past the flower shop, because, despite the fact that Ino and Sakura were very much the best of all friends, Hinata doubted that the blonde's obnoxiously loud nature was what Sakura wanted right at that moment. She walked briskly, practically dragging Sakura along behind her, wanting nothing more than to be at home, where they could sit down in privacy and talk—however, she was all too aware of the other villagers' prying eyes, and her house was further away than she'd thought, so she concentrated on walking in the vague direction of Sakura's house.

It wasn't that far away, now that she thought about it; it was likely that Sakura had been on her way to talk to Ino, to spill out all of her pent up feelings, and she'd been distracted by the new trinket shop, just like Hinata. Except, unlike Hinata, Sakura had spotted something which reminded her of the things she was trying to escape—and, unlike Hinata, it had broken her.

She slowed down, nudging her friend and pushing her towards the door to the small house she lived in, with her mother and father. Sakura fumbled briefly with the door handle, before tugging the door open and launching herself up the stairs. Hinata, meanwhile, tugged off her shoes, leaving them beside the door, and then announced her presence to Sakura's parents, before following their daughter to her room.

The door was wide open—Hinata gingerly glanced around it, peering into the messy bedroom of a typical teenage girl; clothes strewn across the floor, odd socks and a messy desk. Sakura's room was pink, as well; not bright pink, but baby pink—judging by the childish stickers and the colourful decorations, her parents had decorated the room for her, when she was small, and she hadn't changed it since then.

Sakura was lying across the bed, clutching a pillow to her face in an attempt to muffle her wails. Hinata shut the door quietly, crossed the room and then knelt down, stroking the other's hair soothingly, waiting for her to calm down.

There was a moment where Hinata was uncertain she'd ever be able to calm the other girl down—Sakura seemed to have sunk into a deep pit of misery, from which she would never emerge. Then, finally, after a lot of shushing and tongue clucking, Sakura finally fell silent, sitting up and bowing her head, so that her hair fell in front of her face.

"…he _hates _me."

Hinata blinked, bewildered. For a second, she didn't know what Sakura was talking about—for a second, she'd managed to convince herself that she was just a friend, just visiting a friend, not attempting to cheer up an obviously distraught girl. Then she remembered, and she shook her head. "Of course he d—doesn't."

Sakura fixed her with a frosty glare. "Why _wouldn't_ he hate me, Hinata? I've _abandoned _him. I should have fought this time. But I just…"

She trailed off, gazing down at her hands in apparent wonder—she turned them over, staring first at the contours of her palms, and then at her fingernails and knuckles. After a few more seconds, her fists curled into balls and she slumped, defeated.

"…I just gave up."

Hinata frowned, unsure of what to say—she bit her lip, her eyes flickering away, attempting to think of anything to console the other girl. Really, what could she say? Naruto had said it before—she couldn't even begin to comprehend what it was like to lose such a friend; someone so close to you that it was as though they were your sibling; someone you loved so much that, were they to leave, it would destroy you. She'd never felt the same way as Sakura, or Naruto—and she doubted she ever would.

But still, she couldn't remain silent.

Not when she was visiting Sasuke, every single day, for an hour—not when she could end their worries with one little sentence—not when she could tell them that Sasuke forgave them, that he knew they couldn't help it. She couldn't tell them, though, because otherwise she wouldn't be able to visit Sasuke, and he would end up truly lonely before he died. Hinata slumped in defeat, just as Sakura had done mere minutes beforehand, and tried to think of something else she could say, to make everything better.

"…So f—fight _now._"

Sakura blinked, startled. Obviously she hadn't been expecting Hinata to say anything in response to her statement—but, when she looked up, the younger girl was staring at her, her face flush with embarrassment, but her eyes filled with determination.

"You can't just give u—up, Sakura, even if it seems like the easiest option. You owe Sasuke m—more than that," the Hyuuga continued, her nails biting into her palms as she clenched her fists tightly. "Switch it all around—what if you w—were where Sasuke is right now, and I were stood here talking to h—him? What would _h—he _do?"

"…he'd fight."

"Exactly!"

Sakura's face lit up, with pure joy—and, for a few seconds, Sakura believed it was really that easy. She believed, for mere moments, that she might be able to see Sasuke with some well chosen words and a bit of fighting spirit.

Then her face fell. "I could never do something like that. I'm not Naruto. I can't get people to listen to what I say with a few pretty words and a smile. I'm… I'm not like that."

Hinata crossed her arms, furrowing her brow slightly. "So that's it? You w—want to just give up, right now? You haven't even _tried _y—yet, but you still want to run away?"

Sakura didn't reply. She was distantly aware of Hinata standing up and brushing herself down—instead of saying anything, she simply turned over, lying down and facing the window, watching the clouds roll by outside. She heard Hinata walk towards the door—heard the door open slowly, and then waited as the other girl paused, obviously torn about something.

She spoke, her voice ringing out loud and clear. Then the door shut, and Sakura heard footsteps as the other girl retreated down the stairs—for a while, she just lay there, numb, silently weeping, unable to think of anything but the last words of the kind and sweet Hyuuga had spoken.

"I _h—hate _people who don't try."

**.**

**.**

"You're early, Hinata," Ibiki stated blankly, raising his eyebrow as he gazed at the young girl in front of him; she shrugged one shoulder, not meeting his steady gaze and instead choosing to stare in the opposite direction, towards the prison. "What's the occasion?"

"…There's no occasion. I just r—ran out of things to do."

He chuckled dryly, before beckoning for Hinata to follow him. "Hurry up, then. The Uchiha's waiting."

**.**

**.**

Hinata pushed open the door, bowing her head in thanks to Ibiki, who merely shrugged and wandered away in the opposite direction—he still didn't agree with her visiting Sasuke, but there wasn't much he could do about it. If he when straight to Hiashi, Hinata would no doubt get into trouble—and the Hokage would probably kick his ass for him, as well.

He heaved a sigh, hooked his thumbs through the waistband of his trousers, and wandered away, whistling softly. Hinata watched him go, before stepping through the open door and nodding a greeting to the two ANBU members. She'd grown used to them there, even if they still terrified a small part of her; they acknowledged her nod with a stiff salute, before returning to their positions, gazing at their prisoner.

She stepped forwards, sitting down quickly—for a few seconds, she found herself wanting something to preoccupy herself with; some flowers, like before. She'd have to bring some in, next time. Something pretty, to brighten up the room.

She folded her hands neatly in her lap and smiled. "Hello, Sasuke."

There was a moment of silence—Hinata registered, calmly, the fact that the S-rank criminal seemed more sluggish than usual. They'd probably given him an extra dose of drugs, or something. She frowned.

"Hinata."

"Besides the obvious, h—how are you?"

He paused, tilting his head as best he could in his restraints, and raised an eyebrow. "…Since you put it like that, I suppose I'm fine. And you?"

Distantly, he saw the ANBU leave the room, nodding at one another as they did so. His gaze flickered back to Hinata, as she let herself relax, the tension leaving her shoulders in a rush. She stretched as best she could sitting down, before offering him a tired smile. "I'm okay. I s—spoke to Sakura today."

"Did you?" Sasuke murmured, looking back at the doorway. "…How is she?"

"She's well, I s—suppose. She blames herself for not being able to v—visit you," the Hyuuga mumbled, obviously aware that talking of either teammate was a touchy subject for Sasuke. "You don't blame her t—though, do you?"

Sasuke shook his head.

"It doesn't concern me, what she does."

Hinata bit her lip. "You d—don't mean that."

"I do. I'm not out there anymore, Hinata; I left that at the age of thirteen, and I never once looked back. How could I? This isn't a fairytale—I wouldn't have been accepted back with open arms," Sasuke snapped, before laughing bitterly. "Can't you see from my bindings, Hinata? Konoha could _never _have accepted me, no matter when I came back—it's the principle of the matter, you see."

"Konoha might not have, but your _f—friends _would have."

He fell silent, unable to think of an answer; because, in a way, Hinata was correct. Naruto wouldn't have said anything—sure, he would have kicked Sasuke's ass a couple of times, and complained loudly, but the subject would eventually have become taboo, something to never speak of again. Sakura wouldn't have brought it up, either; she'd have been too pleased to have him return—she'd have been happy just to know he was safe.

And Kakashi… well, there might have been a few serious chats about abandoning villages and betraying friendships and seeking vengeance, but nothing big.

Even so…

Sasuke shrugged. "I made my decision."

He waited for Hinata to digest the sharp, brisk answer—waited as realisation slowly dawned on her, and she narrowed her eyes, raised an eyebrow, obviously ready to fire the next question at it.

"Don't you r—regret it?"

He blinked.

"Why _would_ I?"

"B—because you lost so much! You _were_ powerful—you had loving, d—doting friends who wanted to do whatever they could to help you, but you left them. You l—lost them. That doesn't m—matter at all to you?" Hinata asked, leaning forwards, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"I didn't lose them," Sasuke stated blankly, shrugging as best he could in his position. "I didn't lose anything. I _gained _power."

"You _lost_ a v—village."

For a few seconds, he toyed with releasing the information he knew—he toyed with the idea of telling Hinata all about the Uchiha massacre, and the real reasons behind it, just to see the look of despair on her face as she realised he was telling the truth. What reason would he have to make up something so terrible? She'd have no choice but to accept the facts, and he'd watch on with a cruel sense of satisfaction as every single thing she'd ever come to think of as a truth, became a lie.

Despite the initial satisfaction he'd no doubt feel, he couldn't bring himself to do it. If he said something as serious—as huge—as that, she'd hate him. She would never accept it, even if she believed it; no, she'd simply hate him, and consider him to be a liar and a traitor.

After all, Hyuuga Hinata was merely human.

So Sasuke simply smirked, ignoring the part of him which longed to tell her, and chose to let her live a life of ignorance. "It was a price I was willing to pay."

"You… y—you didn't _care?"_

Of course he'd cared. He'd wondered, constantly, on-off, if he'd made the right decision—even when training, he'd wanted someone to tell him whether he was right. No matter how many times Orochimaru insisted he was correct—no matter how many times Kabuto assured him he was blessed—no matter how many times he told himself it was the only way, he still wondered. He still cared.

But he didn't say any of that.

Instead, he merely shrugged.

"I did what I had to do. Your Hokage should be honouring me. I killed Uchiha Itachi, a deadly murderer—the guy who massacred an entire clan."

Hinata didn't respond. She simply gazed at Sasuke, peering at him; it was as though she were looking straight through him, picking apart all of the secrets hidden within the depths of his dark soul. It was as though she were figuring him out—disassembling him with her pretty white eyes. He felt himself shiver.

Then she smiled.

"You're _l—lying_, Sasuke—to me, and to yourself."

He froze, unable to think of anything to say. How could she disarm him with a casual gaze and a few words? How could she wound him so easily? He simply stared at her.

Her smile widened.

"But don't worry, Sasuke."

He blinked.

"…_I forgive you_."


	8. day o8

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**:** "i love shino. that is all."  
**notes**2**: **"oh, and the length of my chapters have gotten shorter and shorter & i apologise. i will most certainly work on it."  
**chapter: **o**8**/5o

* * *

Naturally, Hanabi wasn't at all patient. In fact, it was one of the many traits which she took after her father, as opposed to her kindly, caring mother—it was also one of the many traits she cursed beneath her breath.

It wasn't that she was rudely impatient; she did not cough and hint and interrupt, when people spoke, and she did not hurry those slower than her. Rather, she simply did not enjoy repeating herself. Standing at the bottom of her older sister's bed, tapping one foot, with her arms crossed, she'd told the other girl to wake up eight times.

"Wake _up_, sister."

She scowled. That upped the count to nine.

Hyuuga Hinata mumbled something incomprehensible, choosing to ignore her younger sister, who was becoming increasingly more and more frustrated; she rolled onto her side, facing the wall, clutching her blankets tightly around her body. She wasn't usually lazy—rather, she liked to think she just wasn't a morning person, despite the fact that getting up earlier was part of her job.

Hanabi rolled her eyes and, with a soft grunt, tugged at the blankets—they slipped easily from Hinata's grasp and she was left lying in the middle of her bed, suddenly cold. She curled instinctively, grumbling blearily beneath her breath, as her sister slipped off the bed, walking over to the window. She gazed outside for a second, her gaze immediately wandering to the two familiar older figures stood opposite the window.

Outside, Kiba stretched one arm, waving lazily.

Hanabi rolled her eyes again—something she'd been doing a lot of lately—and turned back to Hinata, who was beginning to look increasingly like a lost cause. Neji had warned her it would take a while for the older girl to fully wake up, but this was just ridiculous, and Hanabi wasn't the most patient of people.

Sighing, she gathered her chakra in the tips of her fingers, hoping to alert her sister with the swirling sense of static chakra—even though she could feel the energy running through her body; feel it buzzing in the air; Hinata didn't stir at all. For a few seconds, Hanabi let herself be mildly impressed; when Hinata slept, she sure was dead to the world.

Then, without a moment's hesitation, she jabbed her chakra-laced hand into the heel of the older girl's foot. She felt the chakra surge through her body and into Hinata's—nothing damaging, just in case, but her sister would probably be walking with a limp, at least for a little while. She heard Hinata squeak, voicing her discomfort in what had to be the highest pitch possible, and suddenly her sister was scrambling upright, clutching the blankets to her chest.

"H—H—_Hanabi!"_

Her younger sister deadpanned, "You wouldn't wake up."

There was a moment of silence, as both girls considered each other; Hinata, no doubt wondering why Neji hadn't woke her up that morning, because he was far kinder and much more considerate, and Hanabi wondering whether she was actually going to make an attempt at moving and waking up.

"…Kiba's outside."

That did it.

Hinata leapt out of her bed, rushing past Hanabi in a flurry of limbs—her younger sister snorted softly, retreating safely to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. She watched as her sister snatched almost every single item of clothing out of her wardrobe, flinging on underwear and trousers with a speed that she'd never seen before. She was used to Hinata being slower, bashful, with absolutely no confidence in her movements; rather, it was when her sister became sure of herself, became brave, that Hanabi felt dismay.

She knew it was wrong; she knew she should feel happy for her sister, at those moments. When she heard of Hinata's brave stand against Pein, despite the fact that it had been utterly futile, she had feigned indifference. In fact, she'd even gone as far as to call her sister stupid, saying that it was an unwise and reckless deed she had performed. Inside, she had been consumed with jealousy.

For her sister to find such courage—to impress so many strong and powerful shinobi—in mere moments, it disheartened Hanabi. She had worked long and hard to get to where she was, with the overwhelming pressure of Neji pushing down on her shoulders; it had been a heavy burden, knowing that not only did she have to surpass her sister, but also her mighty cousin, that, for a long time, she had been sure she could not do it.

Then, she had trained.

She had trained against almost everyone she knew—children younger than her, shinobi her own age, elderly retired kunoichi with secrets to share, and even her own father. She had trained and trained, constantly being knocked down, constantly pulling herself back up again; silently struggling, she had become stronger and stronger.

The Clan Elders had informed her father that, in time, she would be stronger than Neji. He had scoffed, because, in his eyes, no one could be stronger than that golden child—perhaps it was the fact that Neji so reminded him of his brother, but he would hear no ill of the shinobi. It didn't hurt Hanabi as much as she'd thought it would; if she were Hinata, she no doubt would have been crushed. But she was a Hyuuga, with a padlock on her heart of stone.

Still, every now and then, a sudden surge of jealousy would overcome her—usually, it happened whenever Hinata surpassed everyone else's expectations.

Her sister could do it, as well. One second, she appeared to be a weak, mild kunoichi, with nothing but thoughts of peace and trust on her mind—the next second, she was a deadly assassin, impressing all who saw her. And she could do it all in a matter of seconds. It took Hanabi years to gain that much respect. It took her years to surge ahead.

And, yet, her sister could do it in mere seconds, if she wanted to.

Even so, she loved her sister, as dysfunctional as their family could seem. She adored her—she respected her—and she knew that she was everything Hanabi would never be. Could never be. She'd spent too long training, too long hiding, that all of her emotions had dried away, just like her father.

Oh, the passion had gone.

She watched, silently, as her sister struggled with the knots in her hair. For a few seconds, Hanabi wondered why she even bothered—Hinata didn't get knots in her hair, just tangles, and they fell out after a few brush strokes. It was yet another thing Hanabi couldn't help but feel jealous of, although, this also applied to Neji, as well; both of them had such beautiful hair. Long and silky, with not a single kink, and no frizz; hair to be envied, for sure.

She chuckled softly, underneath her breath. Really now? Was she so jealous as to mope over the state of her hair, compared to theirs? She clicked her tongue gently, immediately drawing Hinata's attention, and smiled; because, after all, she _was_ the younger sister, and it _was_ her job to make her older sister's life hell.

"…Shino's waiting as well," Hanabi murmured. "Whatever they need you for, it must be extremely important—they've been waiting for around an hour now."

"An _h—hour?" _Hinata squeaked, flinging her brush onto her bed and scooping her jacket up—she hastily did it up, before rushing past Hanabi and out of the doorway, her final call floating back to her younger sister. "Why didn't you t—tell me?"

She smiled, listening to her sister's hurried footsteps as she practically flew down the stairs. Midway down, there was a high-pitched apology; almost a screech; and she heard Neji's low voice respond with slight confusion, and just a hint of curiosity. Her sister hissed a response, no doubt practically spitting her explanation at the poor boy, but he merely chuckled and continued on his way.

Not for the first time, Hanabi wished she was as close to Neji as her sister was.

She listened as Neji continued up the stairs—listened as he walked past the open bedroom door without a second glance—and the smallest ghost of a smile flickered across her face. A bitter smile, but a smile nonetheless.

A door slammed. She walked slowly, lazily, over to Hinata's bedroom window and pushed it open, leaning on the windowpane and gazing at her sister. Almost immediately, her older sister had begun to gush apology after apology to a laughing, sheepish Kiba and a stoic Shino. Both boys appeared to have nothing to say, informing her that everything was fine, and that they knew she wasn't a morning person; well, Kiba spoke, and Shino simply nodded.

Hanabi leaned her head in her hands, watching Hinata's back as she disappeared down the road, in between her two taller friends. She looked odd next to them; Kiba, with the muscles rippling his back and shoulders, barely hidden beneath his shirt; and Shino, his broad shoulders hidden beneath that huge coat.

And there, between them, Hinata, with her frail body and her hunched shoulders, awkward and fragile.

Once again, Hanabi felt a surge of jealousy, so overpowering that, for a second, she found herself unable to swallow, for fear of tears. Her teammates never called for her, like that; they never stood so close to her; they looked at her with jealousy and anger boiling in their eyes. To them, she was a snob, perhaps due to the fact that she never really spoke to them. To them, she was frosty and silent.

To them, she kept her emotions bottled up as tight as she could.

And she wished, when she was with them, she could be just like Hinata.

**.**

**.**

Hinata clasped her hands in front of her, attempting to think of a solution to her problem, but finding none. Growing increasingly more and more miserable, her gaze flickered to the left, where she found Shino gazing at her intently. He said nothing, despite the fact that he was staring so sharply at her, and she found herself glad of that fact; Kiba was far too dense to really notice anything, when he was so excited and pumped up about the oncoming mission, and Shino was far too kind to ask any questions.

She frowned, as her mind wandered back to her current predicament. What was she going to do about Sasuke?

Of course, she had promised to see him, every single day, but that appeared impossible, what with her current situation. She supposed she'd grown accustomed to the lack of missions, on her part; for around seven days, she'd simply done nothing but lounge around, talking to whoever she wanted to whenever she felt like it.

She should have known something so pleasant couldn't last—besides, she was a _ninja. _It was her _job._ She couldn't just up and leave whenever she felt like it. She should be thankful that Tsunade had even given her that much free time.

Still, that didn't solve the problem. There was absolutely no way she could visit Sasuke; Kiba had informed her that the mission would probably last for a few days, despite the fact that it was nothing big. It was a B-ranked mission, although that might be stretching it a bit far; as a group, they were to guard a nobleman, travelling from his wife on a business trip. Of course, the mission was slightly deeper than that; not only were they to guard the noble, they were to also make him sign a treaty Konoha had prepared, using any means possible—once the treaty was signed, not only would Konoha get a share of the nobleman's mining business, but they would also get a new 'ally'.

And Hinata would be able to return home quicker.

"We're not leaving yet, Hinata," Shino's soft voice interrupted her thoughts and she glanced up sharply, obviously startled. She found him staring at her, his hands tucked into his pockets, his face unreadable. "You still have some time to attend to personal business."

Up ahead, Kiba scowled, obviously frustrated. What could he say? He wanted to leave. In fact, it was the only thing he wanted to do—when he received a mission, he always wanted to start as quickly as possible, no setbacks whatsoever involved.

Currently, Hinata _was_ the setback.

Still, he couldn't exactly complain and kick up a fuss, because then Shino would haughtily deem him childish, and Hinata would apologise profoundly, and _he'd _become the bad guy. So he crossed his arms and huffed underneath his breath.

"Are… are you sure that's okay?" Hinata mumbled, pursing her lips together as she thought—she could, of course, meet with Sasuke and explain her dilemma. Somehow, she didn't quite want to do that—already, she felt like she was disappointing him. She felt like she was meeting his worst expectations.

Shino nodded. "We cannot force you to begin a mission, when you are obviously inadequately prepared. Gather your equipment, attend to your duties, and meet us by the gates in precisely an hour, if that is a sufficient amount of time, of course."

"N—no, that's more than enough!" She beamed at her teammate, ducking her head in thanks. "I couldn't ask for any m—more from you."

"_Good,_" Kiba snapped from up ahead, standing astride Akamaru, and still pretty miffed that he'd been forced to wait an extra hour to begin. Almost immediately, Hinata's shoulders sank and she opened her mouth to apologise.

Shino arched an eyebrow at Kiba.

The two boys glared—or, in Shino's part, simply stared—at each other, for a good few minutes, with Hinata unable to think of anything to say. She wanted so desperately to stay, and, yet, she didn't want to annoy Kiba. She didn't want to be a bother, at all. She didn't want to be troublesome, as Shikamaru would no doubt have put it. She did, however, need to leave. She needed to sort things out with Sasuke, and she needed to do it quickly, so that she could make the most of her time.

Shino cleared his throat, and it seemed the battle of wills was won. Further down the path, Kiba hunched his shoulders sheepishly, ducking his head meekly in apology, and looking for all it was worth like a kicked puppy. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, before smiling at Hinata. "Sorry, Hinata—what was I thinking, right? Listen, just be as quick as possible, so we can get going, and then we can pretend I wasn't just sulking, okay?"

Hinata smiled.

"S—sounds like a plan."

With that, she turned and headed off in the opposite direction, passing a few shops before ducking around a corner; all the while, entirely aware of the two pairs of searching, studying eyes on her back.

When she'd finally disappeared out of sight, Kiba heaved a huge, obviously fake, sigh, glancing quickly at Shino out of the corner of his eye. The other boy remained oblivious to his stares—or, rather, _pretended _to be oblivious. And then, finally, he spoke.

"…_what_?"

Kiba grinned dopily, shrugging casually. "Oh, nothing. I was just wondering what's on her mind. She's seemed really preoccupied lately, right?"

Shino didn't miss a blink.

"It's none of my concern."

Kiba snorted, flapping a hand idly, whilst at the same time beckoning for Akamaru, or Shino, to follow. "_Sure_ it is. I mean, we're teammates, right? And we're practically related, we're that close. Even though Neji's all smarmy with Hinata now, don't forget that he used to hate her guts—and who was her friend then? I think you'll find that the correct answer is us, idiot."

"…she'll tell us when she wants to."

"Or when I ask her."

Shino frowned, showing for perhaps the first time, in the entire conversation, a bit of emotion. "Kiba, do not ask her. Do not even attempt to pressure her into doing something she doesn't want to do."

"You never know, Shino…"

As Kiba wandered down the road, with perhaps his most trusted friend on his left, and Akamaru brushing against his side, he could not help but wonder if what Hinata needed right now was for _someone else _to take charge. Perhaps _she _didn't want to make the first move.

He smiled.

"…it could be for the best."

**.**

**.**

The door opened.

Sasuke glanced up, briefly, as Hyuuga Hinata shuffled in, her fingers pressed together, looking for all the world as though something extremely terrible had happened. For a few seconds, his breath caught in his throat, and a sense of foreboding washed over him; for her to make a face like that, surely something awful had happened to Naruto.

That could only be it.

And then he wondered, quickly, why it bothered him so much. After all, he'd abandoned them—they were supposed to mean nothing to him, and, yet, they always meant so much. Still, he rearranged his features into a composed smirk.

"…you're early, Hinata," he murmured, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at her face, as she sat down in front of him; her expression had shifted into something resembling happiness, but he could still see the anxiety in her eyes. "What's the occasion?"

"I—I'm leaving for a little while."

He raised an eyebrow. What exactly did that have to do with him? And then the full impact of her words hit him, and he felt all of the colour wash out of him.

"…how long for?"

She shifted uncomfortably, looking entirely miserable. "I'll only be gone for a f—few days; maybe four or five; and I'm s—sorry. I'm so, so _sorry._" She gazed up at him, and he could see the depth of her sorrow glistening in her eyes.

And it struck him.

He couldn't understand—not for the life of him—why a girl, who was the equivalent of a stranger to him, cared so deeply. Why was it that she felt such sadness when he'd only known her for a few days? He'd never spoken to her before in his life, not before he'd been imprisoned, and he knew exactly why; she was the type of weak, overly kind and oh so _caring_ person that he didn't usually like. He considered them to be pathetic.

But now he didn't mind as much; seeing Hinata sat opposite him, with tears in her eyes, wanting nothing more than to please him, it changed his opinion. Not drastically. Only slightly. She was _still _weak, after all. Still overly kind. Still oh so caring.

Still pathetic.

But… it was _okay._

That was fine with him.

"I understand."

Hinata blinked, obviously shocked by his response, and then tilted her head. "B—but… I won't be able to s—see you."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, barely concealing his amusement. What, did she want him to berate her, or something? Did she want him to break down—to shout and yell and hurt her? But, as he looked at her closely—at her calm, almost relieved, expression, contrasting greatly with her ramrod straight back, and tense shoulders—he wondered if she were used to disappointing people. He wondered if she was usually rewarded with an angry outburst.

"That's fine," he replied, and his telltale smirk slid across his face. "You _are_ a kunoichi, after all. I would be concerned if you _weren't_ leaving for missions."

She peered at him, obviously searching for signs of anger or upset on his face, and he almost felt the need to laugh. She cared _too much. _She was just one of those people, he supposed. She'd promised, and so she had to keep her promise, no matter what it meant to her—no matter if the promise broke her.

She reminded him of Naruto.

For a few seconds, a face—with bright blue eyes, sun-kissed, whiskered cheeks and golden hair—swam in his mind. The face—the boy—his _friend_—offered him his trademark cheery grin, complete with a thumbs up, as _he_ promised.

That face was replaced with the face of a girl—midnight blue hair, pale features and white eyes—unsmiling and somewhat grim, as _she_ promised.

His smirk slid off his face.

"Are… a—are you _sure_?" Hinata mumbled, pressing her fingers together as she gazed at Sasuke, obviously searching for something she could do to make up for 'breaking her promise'. That was no doubt how she saw it.

He tilted his head.

"…why does it bother you so much?"

She blinked, her eyebrows shooting upwards as the question was asked—almost immediately, she seemed to fold in on herself, hugging her arms around her chest and bowing her head as though he'd kicked her.

"Why _does_ it bother you so much?" He repeated, finding himself unable to look at her—despite the fact that he knew his question was a reasonable one, it felt cruel as he spoke it. Unjust. Almost accusing. "I understand. Promises can't always be kept."

It was only as he said the last sentence, that he realised he actually felt disappointed. The fact that he'd always thought of her promise—her naïve, silly little promise—as something that could be kept; that _must_ be kept; and when he realised she couldn't keep it, it had hurt him. Somewhere, somehow, deep inside of him, he'd been hurt. Perhaps almost subconsciously. The fact that he thought she was breaking such a ridiculous promise, said it all.

He found himself smiling again.

His brother would have said he was going soft—that he was _foolish_, no doubt.

The thought made him laugh. Softly, at first—a quiet chuckle—which turned into a full scale, outright belly-laugh. Hinata looked upset—hurt and insulted—but he found himself ignoring her. To think of Itachi at such a time…

Well, it seemed ironically appropriate.

Hinata waited for the manic, almost panicked, laughter to die down, before responding to Sasuke's question.

"It bothers me, b—because I _care."_

With that, she stood up, dusting herself down and straightening her jacket. She took a quick, almost wistful, glance at Sasuke; taking in his dirty, matted hair, and his too-pale skin; and felt herself near to tears. Perhaps it was the wild, forced laughter that had made her feel that way, or perhaps it was his waxy, ill appearance, but she found herself so close to tears that it hurt.

She couldn't meet his eyes, as she turned away—she couldn't bear to look at him, as she reached for the door handle. She didn't want to speak of him. She didn't want to think of him.

She'd broken her promise.

As she left the room, she waved her hand at the rabbit-masked ANBU guard. "Tell him… t—tell him I'll write," she practically whispered, and she waited for the ANBU member to nod in response, before walking briskly down the corridor and away from the cell.

His haunted laughter echoed after her.

And, as she left the prison, tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

**.**

**.**

Hinata was upset.

It was clear for everyone to see, Shino thought, after her sullen, albeit still polite, refusal of Kiba's offer to carry her bags for her. Although, had Shino been in her position, he too would have refused, no matter his emotions, but that was beside the point—she'd barely spoken, for what had to be over a few hours, and the entire team had ended up walking in complete silence.

It didn't bother Kiba, luckily; sitting astride Akamaru, he was too far ahead to pay any concern to the troubled kunoichi. Sometimes, Shino truly wished he was as naïve as Kiba seemed.

He found his thoughts straying back to Kiba's words, earlier that day; perhaps asking her would be better in that circumstance. Asking her what was wrong, and then refusing to take no as an answer. Forcing her to spill all.

But, as fascinating and compelling the idea seemed, Shino would never do it.

And so he walked in silence, beside his best friend, unable to speak to her—not knowing the right things to say, or the words she needed. Not for the first time in his life, Shino felt useless beside her. Kiba would know. He'd laugh and joke, and every tension in Hinata would disappear, as quickly as that.

But Shino didn't know.

He would never know.

So he remained silent, as he walked beside the girl he used to love, and wondered why his life wanted nothing more than to spiral down into a pit of clichés.

It was just his luck.


	9. day o9

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**: **"i just looked at the amount of reviews and thought this is so incredible. when i say i love you guys, i really _love _you guys"  
**notes**2**: **"okay, so i threw in a bit of shikasaku"  
**chapter: **o**9**/5o

**

* * *

**

Hinata woke up in time to watch the sunset.

She had been woken by a rustling from outside of her tent; instantly on her guard, she had snatched a kunai to her side, slowly sitting up. Her eyes had flickered from side to side, but she had let herself relax. If it were anything big, Shino or Kiba would be awake, and they were both extremely noisy when it came to combat—Kiba with his random battle-cries and taunts, Shino with his constant buzzing. She unzipped her sleeping bag carefully, rolled onto her side, and slid out of the tent.

As far as she could tell, neither of her teammates was awake. Outside of Kiba's tent lay Akamaru, who glanced up sleepily at her, crossing and re-crossing his paws. She offered him a tiny smile, before walking steadily in the direction of the rustling, making sure to remain as quiet as possible, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. It wasn't coming from too close to the camp, as far as she could tell, and she realised she had only been hearing it faintly.

She paused momentarily, only to disable the jutsu Shino had put up earlier; chakra strings, feebly made, but they weren't really needed altogether that much. The idea was that the enemy would disable the strings, just as she had done, but then trip the thin metal wires just behind it. And, if they decided _not_ to disable the chakra strings, the bugs on either end would alert Shino within seconds, before the enemy could even begin to attack. If she tripped either trap now, she would only cause her teammates trouble.

She continued onwards, curious, careful not to step on any leaves or snap any branches; she kept her kunai by her side, ready to raise it and use it, if absolutely necessary. She ducked underneath a particularly low hanging branch, pushed aside a bush, and then stumbled into a clearing. It took her breath away. Opposite her was a small pool of clear water, reflecting the stars above her, surrounded by green and pretty flowers. Only once, when she was a Genin, had she seen something as beautiful; and she had trained there, practising her techniques.

…that had also been the same time when she had decided to train _naked_, in a _waterfall_, and _Naruto_ had spotted her.

The very memory brought a blush to her cheeks. She flapped one hand, suddenly aware of the fact that she was still in her teddy-bear pyjamas. The rustling noise intensified, and she dropped into a defensive crouch, serious again; she peered around her, into the undergrowth, searching for whatever was making the noise. A movement across the pool caught her eye, and she turned slowly to face it, waiting for whatever was there to appear.

There was a moments longer of rustling, and then she could make out a figure—not a person, definitely not. An animal, as far as she could tell. She squinted slightly, relaxing completely; it looked like a deer. She smiled, watching as the deer drank cautiously from the water, before shooting upright, glancing around it, and then disappearing back into the forest behind it.

Hinata waited a moment, before crossing over to the pool and kneeling beside it. It really was beautiful, she decided, the way the stars seemed to swim in the water before her—if she tried, she could convince herself that, by dipping her hand into the water, she could scoop out a star. The idea of cupping such a brilliant thing in her hands, watching as it's glow seeped out between her fingers...

She shivered.

Such daydreams were unbecoming of a kunoichi on a mission. In fact, straying away from the camp, just to track a deer, was pretty stupid too. She straightened, hugging her hands around her body and feeling foolish. She was awake now, but she would certainly be tired later; she should have wrapped up her little adventure quicker.

She turned away, the kunai dangling uselessly by her side, walking stiffly back to the camp; there was no way she'd be able to return to her sleep now—she was far too awake. She pushed aside a few branches and stumbled into the camp, careful to enable the jutsu again, once she was within the camp's boundaries. Then she staggered over to her tent, stopping briefly to pet Akamaru, and nestled inside.

She let her mind wander.

Her first thought, surprisingly, was of Sakura. Two days ago, the girl had been completely distraught; she had been panicked and upset and confused, and all because of Uchiha Sasuke. Hinata should have been more soothing, no doubt; she should have gone to a greater length to reassure her, at least. But it had been so _infuriating. _She'd been so _close._

With a few words, Sakura had almost believed there was a chance; a chance she could help Sasuke, a chance she could see Sasuke, a beautiful, blinding _chance. _She had believed the idea was possible, and so it had been possible, for a few brief moments. That was all it would have taken. But her face had fallen, and she had given up.

She had given up.

Hinata had said it then: "I _h—hate _people who give up."

It was true; she _loathed_ those who gave up without even trying. At first, she had come up with excuses; excuse after excuse after excuse. Then she had seen Naruto—she had seen a poor orphaned boy, hated by the entire village, go from being nothing to everything. She had seen his smile, every day of every week, no matter the weather. She had seen his bright blue eyes, always sparkling, always shining and never dull.

She had decided then that she hated those who gave up, but she had been unable to stop herself from doing such a thing. She _still_ gave up now. It had been hypocritical of her to say such a thing to Sakura, and she could not help but wonder whether it had _really_ helped.

She hoped so.

Her thoughts strayed briefly to Neji, as she wondered how he was keeping. She hadn't said goodbye to him, despite the fact that she _always_ did, even when he had hated her. Sometimes she hadn't spoken the words—sometimes it had been more of an action—but she had always done it. She wondered if he was worried.

She wriggled in the tent, tugging her sleeping bag tightly around herself and then crawling towards the entrance. She unzipped it, leaning outwards so that she could see her surroundings, and found her gaze instantly drawn towards the sky. The night was fading, and quickly. Dawn was coming. She sat in silence, watching as the sky grew lighter, and as clouds drifted aimlessly ahead. She could see clearly now; she could see the sun rising steadily, at first half a circle, melted into the ground, it's rays seeping into the sky like a spreading stain.

Then it rose higher, and it became a fiery orange ball, no longer appearing to touch the earth below it. It burned red and yellow.

She sighed softly.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Hinata practically jumped out of her skin, letting out a soft squeal and shrinking back into her sleeping bag. Slightly to her left, Kiba chuckled—to her right, Shino simply didn't make a sound. The two of them didn't seem tired; Kiba was constantly arching and stretching, rubbing the back of his neck and cracking joints, but otherwise he seemed absolutely fine.

She stared sheepishly at them. "I... I didn't wake you, d—did I?"

"Oh, what, with your stomping about and all your rustling?" Kiba replied, grinning wolfishly. Hinata let out a soft groan in response, and he laughed again. "I've got pretty good ears, Hinata. Granted, I have a better sense of smell, but still; _good ears._"

"I'm so s—sorry," she apologised, aware of her bed-hair and the fact that she appeared to be dressed in only a sleeping bag.

Kiba flapped his hands in response, squatting down beside her and falling silent; Shino, once again, made no attempt to speak, but she was certain he was rolling his eyes. She felt her cheeks heat up and she wanted nothing more than to bury her head in her sleeping bag. Then her eyes flickered upwards once more, and she found herself captured by the sunrise; not quite as beautiful as a sunset, but just as magical.

A new day.

One less day.

Her mind strayed back to Sasuke, but she pushed the thought away. She had plenty of time—heaps of it. She would write him a letter and buy him a souvenir. She would visit him for more than an hour. She would do whatever she had to, to make it up to him. Everything would turn out okay.

"This is what I live for, y'know?" Kiba said, suddenly, and his voice startled her out of her thoughts. "These little moments. Watching the sunrise with my two best friends. And Akamaru."

A feeling of warmth spread through Hinata, making her blush and smile and want to cry all at once. She had never once thought of how much she truly loved Kiba and Shino—she had never once thought of how much she truly cared for them. They had been through so much together, and now they were a part of her.

She thought of Sasuke and Naruto, and knew that she would both know what it was like to have such a bond, and still _never_ know.

Beside her, Shino nodded his agreement.

Hinata's smile turned into a full blown grin.

"This is what I _live_ for."

**.**

**.**

Sakura tied back her hair, to keep it out of her face, and then clipped back any stray pieces with a plain red grip. She tugged her gloves onto her hands, snapping them into place, and then slipped into a defensive stance; without a second of hesitation, she flipped forwards, feeling the chakra surging towards her fist. She swung, almost wildly, and her blow connected with thin air.

Her opponent had ducked.

He rolled away, swiftly, straightening into his usual slouch, and she scowled, chasing after Shikamaru. He let out a groan of annoyance, his hands forming a jutsu quicker than she would have imagined—and his shadow began to stretch and grow. Sakura's scowl darkened; it should be easy, then. All she'd have to do was stay out of the shadows.

She neared, leaping into the air and bringing her fist into the ground in the exact spot he had been standing on; but he had already thrown himself out of the way, and his shadow was already swarming to where she would fall. She braced herself, searching for a way out; then a small smile stretched over her face.

She laced more chakra into her fists, and brought her second one down to meet the first.

The ensuing explosion—because that was all she could think of it as—was truly incredible. The ground beneath her gave way; debris flew into the air, high above her head. For a few seconds, she lost Shikamaru's shadow; and, for a few seconds, Shikamaru lost _her._

When the dust cleared, Sakura was already gone.

No doubt Shikamaru had planned for that, however, and she found herself darting out of the reach of various shadows. She spotted him racing alongside her, his fingers flying as he did so, and she wasn't certain as to whether any of her actions were her own. She skidded to a stop, and he did the same opposite her. She slipped a kunai out of her pocket, and Shikamaru did likewise. His lips formed a lobsided grin.

"Do you _really_ want to do that, Sakura?" He murmured, raising the kunai as she did the same. "The results would only be troublesome."

"It's a bluff," she replied, and then she moved.

Her kunai met Shikamaru's in the air, directly in the middle of the two; but she didn't care, as she was already slipping a summoning scroll out of her pocket. She saw her opponent swear softly, watched as he threw one kunai lazily at her and then flipped backwards, towards safety. She dodged the kunai, spread the scroll through the air, and bit her thumb, swiping it across the scroll. The scroll vanished and, in her hands, appeared an oversized axe, about twice her size.

Shikamaru mumbled a troublesome, before instantly throwing himself backwards as the axe was brought crashing down to the earth, just a few steps away from him. The destruction was massive; the ground beneath him shifted and cracked. He judged the radius of destruction to be about five meters around the axe, when used with simple brute strength. However, Sakura was smart, much like him; there had to be _more_ to the axe.

Then he felt it—a slight shift in his chakra. His shadows retreated some distance, unable to sustain their length and, for a moment, he felt out of control. His hands flipped quickly, forming a jutsu, but nothing happened.

His eyes met Sakura's. "..._ah._ That's _interesting._"

"Isn't it, though?" Sakura beamed at him, dragging the axe along behind her; whether it was because it was too heavy (unlikely), or because she needed to keep it touching the ground (more likely), Shikamaru wasn't sure.

"Tsunade taught you it?"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "You know what it does, right?"

He nodded. Yes, he definitely _knew_, all right. As long as the axe stayed in contact with the ground, his shadows became useless—to make his jutsu's work, Shikamaru had to lace a certain amount of chakra into his shadows. The axe, when making contact with the ground, appeared to _disable_ chakra, within the five metre radius; or, at least, make it extremely difficult to control. It was taking all of his concentration just to release the jutsu, as well as to think of a counterattack.

Luckily, he was spared the effort. At that moment, Ino appeared, waving her hands and shouting for Sakura, saying something about lunch—and Sakura hesitated and turned, for just a second too long.

Shikamaru darted forwards, keeping as close proximity as possible; that way, Sakura wouldn't be able to swing her axe, and it would become more of a hindrance than a help. He kept tight against her, before launching his entire weight at her; perhaps it was a reckless move on his behalf, because Sakura's eyes widened and she flailed, falling backwards with him straddling her. Quick as a flash, he pinned both of her hands above her, tugging a kunai out of his pocket and holding it warily against her neck.

There was a moment of silence, in which they both surveyed each other. Shikamaru took that moment to wonder why she had even _asked_ to spar with him; he had only agreed because it had been such a surprising request. Sakura very rarely spoke to him, unless it was for strategy advice, or some other mission-related nonsense; she didn't speak to him outside of her work, and she never asked to spar against him, perhaps because their abilities were so mismatched. And yet, that morning, she had knocked on his door, smiled sheepishly at him, and then demanded he spar against her.

She'd seemed different, then; upset. He couldn't blame her, of course; her best friend, and teammate, had, after all, been imprisoned. She had been depressed for a full week, much longer than Naruto—and when she had asked to spar, she had seemed unsure and confused.

He noticed, blankly, that she was raising an eyebrow at him.

He rolled his eyes and let go of her wrists—a bad move, on his behalf. Within moments, Sakura had grabbed hold of both of his hands, switching their positions but entangling their legs. She beamed down at him, triumphant, and he yawned pointedly.

He _should_ have predicted that.

He'd been distracted.

He let his eyes close, momentarily, and he would have napped then and there, had Ino's scream not startled him so greatly. He glared crossly at her, but she ignored him; she was busy pointing, clapping her hands together and shrieking about how they looked so _cute. _At that, Sakura shot off him in a flash, chakra surging dangerously towards her hands, her infamous temper sparked, and the two girls began to argue loudly about nothing.

Shikamaru placed a hand on his head, mumbled underneath his breath, and then began to stagger to his feet. A gloved hand closed on his right shoulder, and a pale, flawless hand closed on the other, and he was practically thrown into the air by the two girls; Sakura flashed him an apologetic grin, but Ino ignored him completely, and he rolled his eyes.

How _troublesome._

"You know what, Sakura? You can take _Shikamaru _for lunch, since you love him so much!" Ino snapped, before swishing her hair and stalking away; both Shikamaru and Sakura rolled their eyes because Ino was a terrible actress and apparently a wannabe matchmaker.

Sakura smiled sheepishly at him.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Is ramen okay? That's all I can afford at the moment."

She nodded, walking slightly ahead of him. He followed her, walking with a slouch, occasionally letting her correct his posture, because apparently it made her feel better. She rambled about everything, talking first about Naruto, then her training, then the hospital, but being extra careful not to mention Sasuke. He noted this carefully. Eventually she realised he had not said a single thing, and accused him of sleepwalking—this resulted in her hitting him across the head just outside of Ichiraku, before he finally decided to respond.

He made sure not to talk about Sasuke, at all.

**.**

**.**

Hinata shrank down into her seat, trying to be as small as possible, and feeling overwhelmed and ridiculously embarrassed. They had found the nobleman far too early; despite the specific request of the Hokage, the man had left his hotel, claiming it was far too rundown and _poor_ for him. He had gone drinking, with a group of his close colleagues—she didn't have to have a nose like Kiba's to smell the stench of alcohol on him—and, after a while of asking around, they had found him in a seedy little bar, his arms wrapped around a blonde girl and a curvaceous dark-skinned woman.

She wrinkled her nose, and noticed both Shino and Kiba stiffen beside her. She felt uncomfortable stood in front of the nobleman, watching him scrutinize her; the lights were far too dim, and the place was filled with only men. She crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest.

"Daisuke?" Kiba asked, stepping forwards and taking charge; the man's eyes flicked quickly to him, and then back to Hinata. "You are Ichiro Daisuke, right?"

He inclined his head, and she could not help but wonder whether he was anywhere near as drunk as she had thought he was. He wobbled slightly, sure, and his speech was slurred, but his eyes were cold and calculating.

"We are the Konoha shinobi, sent to guard you on your way home," Kiba continued, barely hiding his irritation; not only was the letch staring at Hinata, in such a hungry manner, but he was also completely ignoring Kiba. He rapped his knuckles on the table in front of them, and the blonde girl giggled. "We told you to stay at your hotel, _sir_."

"And I am not a _child_ for you to order around, shinobi," Daisuke replied evenly, choosing not to look at who he was speaking to; instead, he turned towards the blonde girl and cupped her cheek with one hand, letting go of the darker girl. For a few seconds, Hinata felt sick—the girl looked to be a year or so younger than _her_.

"It was for your own _safety_," Kiba snapped, his voice rising slightly.

"I am perfectly capable of caring for myself," he murmured, stroking the girl's face; the girl shivered, in exaggerated pleasure, and let out a soft moan. "You need a drink, shinobi; you need to _relax._"

Hinata nudged Kiba sharply with her elbow, before he could even open his mouth to speak; his eyes flickered over to her, he nodded, and then fell silent. She wondered distantly how Akamaru was, stood outside—and then she stepped forwards, bowing curtly. The nobleman let go of his blonde companion, choosing instead to stare at Hinata, and the girl let out an irritated keening noise.

Hinata ignored it.

"I do not d—doubt you are capable of such things, s—sir," she began, attempting to calm both parties as she spoke. "And my teammate did not m—mean to offend you in a—any way; he was merely w—worried, as were we all, when w—we could not find you. We shall take your a—advice and relax, if you w—wouldn't mind."

"Not at all," Daisuke murmured, his amusement evident in his voice, his eyes still trained on Hinata. "There is always space for more at my table. Did you know you have beautiful eyes, kunoichi?"

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She didn't reply. Kiba brushed past her, grumbling underneath his breath, and sat down a distance away from the blond girl—Shino squeezed her arm gently as he passed, before sitting down next to the dark-skinned woman, who instantly moved up to him. He gazed impassively down at her, as she latched onto his arm, leaning forwards as to show a greater amount of cleavage; opposite him, Kiba snorted.

Hinata sat down next to Kiba, opposite Daisuke, as the nobleman gestured for an extra round of drinks.

Kiba leaned forwards, drawing a scroll out of his pocket and placing it down on the table, making sure to still keep a somewhat loose grip on it. "We need to talk about the treaty, sir," he murmured, leaning forwards and keeping his voice to a whisper. "It cannot wait."

Hinata sighed. She hated treaty missions; it was Konoha's bribe. Generally, it was only offered to rich noblemen, in return for certain necessary items—for example, Daisuke was the son of a wealthy weapon's trader. In return for an unlimited supply of items, they would be offered protection from their enemies, as well as other such luxuries. He didn't deserve it. Looking at the blonde girl at his side—considering her _age_—oh, he _definitely_ didn't deserve it. Hinata peered at the girl, attempting to show her sympathy and expecting to see sadness in her eyes; but, despite her no doubt erotic movements, her eyes were alert, and trained on Kiba.

She frowned slightly, a feeling of unease washing over her; her eyes flickered over to the dark-skinned girl, and was surprised to see that she too was peering at Kiba. Her frown deepened, and Hinata placed her hand on top of Kiba's, drawing the scroll back towards her; she kept her eyes trained on the two women, searching for a reaction.

"Now is not the t—time or the place, K—Kiba."

Kiba's eyebrows shot upwards, but he said nothing as he pocketed the treaty. Daisuke clapped loudly, his voice obnoxious and arrogant. "Here, here, kunoichi."

She offered the nobleman a shaky smile, but could not help feeling suspicious. It certainly was odd. Daisuke had been given strict instructions to stay within the hotel, and he had made it absolutely clear that he planned on following those rules, as well. He had seemed obedient, when talking with Tsunade; obedient, but _greedy. _Greedy for everything; riches, wine, food and _women. _

Hinata scanned the first girl—the blonde girl she had felt so sorry for earlier. After a second, closer scrutiny, it seemed highly unlikely that she was a prostitute; her stomach was too toned and she didn't seem hungry at all. Her face wasn't gaunt either, although, it _was_ plastered in make-up. The girl reached for her drink, and Hinata caught her hand; their eyes met. Hinata smiled shyly at her, before leaning forwards and inspecting her nails. "Your nails are so _p—pretty_, miss," she mumbled, offering another small smile. "And they're so l—long, too."

The girl smiled back at her, her red lips stretching into a wide grin. "Aren't you just a _darling_, kunoichi?" She said, and, for a moment, Hinata thought she was going to pinch her cheek; then she pulled her hand away from Hinata's and scooped up her drink.

Hinata reached for her own drink, picking it up but making no move to drink some, as she thought. The girl's hands had been soft, yes, but the tips of her fingers had been calloused, almost as though she had spent a few days scrubbing the dead, hard skin. It was a common practise for kunoichi who wished to work undercover, as normal women. And her nails—yes, they _had_ been long, but covered in faint scratches, which showed she often did hard work. Without activating her byakugan, she couldn't confirm her suspicions, but she had reason to believe that the two prostitutes were undercover shinobi.

She frowned. It didn't make sense. There were plenty of weapon traders; if another village had wanted Daisuke, they would have simply acted quicker. There would have been no need to send shinobi in undercover; all they would have had to do was offer a healthy bribe. Which meant that there was either more to the treaty, or more to Daisuke. She glanced briefly at Shino, who was attempting to untangle himself from the dark-skinned assassin, and then nudged Kiba.

He blinked at her. "Yeah?"

"C—can I look at the treaty, p—please?" She murmured, keeping her voice low; Kiba paused a moment, staring at her, before handing it over with a shrug.

"Sure, I guess," he answered, keeping his voice low to match hers, and handing the scroll over; Hinata noticed the darker assassin watching her, but attempted not to show it. She didn't want them to know she knew.

"Keep an eye on D—Daisuke and his _friends,_" Hinata murmured, before smiling cheerily at the nobleman. "I'll be b—back in a second. I'm just going to the r—restroom."

Daisuke nodded, waving her away with one hand—and, had she been anyone else, she would have felt furious at such an arrogant dismissal, but, instead, she simply ignored it. She was well aware of eyes on her back during her entire journey to the restroom, and felt that her suspicions had been justified, if not confirmed. She pushed open the door, glanced once over her shoulder, and saw the blonde girl untangling herself from Daisuke, obviously on her way over as well. Hinata narrowed her eyes, pushed open the door and slipped inside; then she waited a moment, watched as someone left, and then followed that person, shifting her jacket off and keeping her head down low as she did so. She rummaged into her pockets, pulled out various weapons as well as an old ring, and then caught up with the person in front of her—a young woman, a bit older than her.

"H—hi," She said, waving with one hand and offering a smile; the woman raised an eyebrow before smiling tentatively back. "I'm s—sorry, but I think you l—left this in the restroom."

She offered the ring out. The woman took it slowly, examining it. The blonde girl brushed past Hinata and marched into the restroom. The woman shook her head. "…no, that's not mine."

"Isn't it? I'm s—sorry for disturbing you," Hinata replied, keeping her voice even, and stepped out into the crowd, making sure to stay away from her table; she searched briefly for an empty table, found none, and then made her way over to a table with a man sat on it, nursing a bottle of sake. She stopped in front of it, and flashed him a smile. "Is anyone s—sitting here?"

He shook his head, obviously overjoyed at some female attention; Hinata sat down and he moved closer. She slipped the scroll from her pocket, ignoring him, and began to read. Her eyes scanned the page once for anything which really leapt out at her, found nothing, and then she read as quickly as she could through the treaty; there was nothing at all that different. Just the usual stuff, really; in return for unlimited supplies, they would be offered luxuries and protection, unless the character was an S-ranked criminal or some other kind of murderer. By the time she had finished, she was no wiser as to why there were assassins after Daisuke _and_ she had a drunk old man practically sat in her lap.

She smiled sweetly at him, told him thanks, but no thanks, and made her way back to her table. She pulled her jacket back on, and sat down; the blonde girl was back, and she fixed Hinata with a pointed stare. "I thought you were in the restrooms."

"I was."

"I didn't see you."

"You m—must have missed me."

Kiba wrinkled his nose delicately—obviously he could smell the booze and sweat of the old man she'd sat by earlier—but he said nothing, and she was grateful. She wasn't a genius, not like Shikamaru or Sakura or even Shino—and she didn't have Naruto's, or Kiba's, reckless outbursts. She didn't act on impulses; or, if she did, she didn't do it often.

Apparently, now was one of those occasions when she _did _act.

"Daisuke, would you l—like to buy me a drink?"

**.**

**.**

Ibiki didn't often meet with the Hokage and, when he did, he knew it wasn't for the nicest reasons. They only ever met to discuss prisoners, or various different ways of extracting information from those prisoners. More recently, however, they met simply to discuss Sasuke, and his relationship with Hinata; Tsunade had wondered if there was any way they could exploit that relationship, without hurting Hinata.

There were none.

But the information was needed, and they had to get it somehow, and so Tsunade had recruited Hinata as a sort of backup plan. Ibiki crossed his arms and peered at the blonde woman, uncertain of what she wanted to know this time; she leaned across her desk and stared at him, her fingers touching in front of her. She sat in silence for some time, before finally speaking.

"Is there any way the information could be extracted from the Uchiha using the Yamanaka bloodline?"

"Perhaps, Lady Hokage; but you would have to use Inoichi, as opposed to his daughter, Ino," Ibiki replied evenly. "His talent far exceeds hers. However, the Uchiha is much stronger than we believe. There is every chance that Inoichi's talents will not help, when it comes to him. We should still try it."

"Indeed," Tsunade agreed, her eyes flickering upwards to meet Ibiki's. "Make sure he's free tomorrow. Hinata will be away then. We'll see what we can find."

"Yes, Lady Tsunade."

**.**

**.**

Hinata sat opposite Daisuke, nursing a drink of something alcoholic in one hand and clutching his hand with the other. She'd never really been good at the entire seduction technique, despite the fact that it often came in useful as a Hokage—rather, Kurenai had said she should simply be herself. Apparently most men were attracted to Hinata's shy and naïve character; it was cute, as Kurenai had put it.

Certainly, Daisuke seemed attracted enough. She should have been flattered, really, but the man was a pervert, and it was rather putting her off. She didn't bother with any of the fluttering her eyelashes nonsense; that was for girls like Ino to pull off, not her. Instead, she picked up her drink and took a tiny sip. It made her eyes water. She flapped one hand, before laughing nervously and pointing at her drink. "How s—strong _is _this?"

He chuckled in response. "Probably not strong enough."

Automatically, she laughed, and took another tiny sip, despite the fact that it burnt her throat. Even so, she very rarely got drunk—it took her a few sips to actually get used to the taste and then, much like her cousin, she could drink for as long as she wanted. Not that she did such things often. In fact, she only drank rarely, and normally only if Kiba was involved. She placed the cup back on the table and leaned forwards, gripping Daisuke's hand a bit tighter. She'd have said something about him watching her, but she decided they were well past flirting, and she was just going to have to get on with it.

"Those two g—girls in there, Daisuke—where did you meet them?" She asked, her voice completely serious and her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Jealous, are you, kunoichi?" He drawled, lifting one finger to trace her lips; Hinata didn't flinch, and instead stared coolly at him, waiting for an answer. He heaved a dramatic sigh, removing his finger, and began to speak. "Fine, then. I was waiting at the hotel, as you said, when two _beautiful_ women—" He paused briefly, to see if his words had any effect on the girl in front of him; when they didn't, he continued. "—stopped by my hotel room. They told me they were presents, and I assumed they were from Konoha, kunoichi, so I accepted them. Why do you look so surprised?"

"You assumed _Konoha _would s—send you _prostitutes?_"

Daisuke raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Evidently, you do not take part in this treaty nonsense often. Most villages send something, or some_one_, to seal the deal. A pretty little kunoichi." He sneered. "Much like _yourself._"

Hinata narrowed her eyes, and pulled her hand away; her eyes flickered back towards the table Kiba and Shino were sat at, both of them attempting to entertain the two women. Then she let herself smile. "What if I were to t—tell you, _sir_, that the two w—women you thought were prostitutes sent by Konoha, were actually assassins, sent by one of your e—enemies?" Her smile widened. "Would you let the p—pretty little kunoichi _save you_?"

He glanced towards the table, much as she had done. She watched closely for every little detail; his face had paled, his knuckles had whitened and he had visibly tensed. His eyes flickered backwards and forwards, before finally meeting Hinata's steady gaze. His voice was dry and raspy. "What… what do you want to know?"

"Why w—would someone want to kill you?" She murmured, leaning forwards and clasping his hand again; his other hand went straight to his drink.

"You're asking the wrong question, kunoichi."

She narrowed her eyes again. "Is now r—really time for games, D—Daisuke?" When she didn't get a response, she sighed and tried again. "_Who_ would w—want to kill you?"

"Much better," Daisuke murmured, lifting his drink to his lips and downing it in one. He placed the empty glass on the table. "My father. My father would _definitely_ want to kill me."

"Why?"

"I won't lie to you, kunoichi," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "After all, you're going to keep me alive, right? My father… my father was the one who agreed to this treaty. I disagreed greatly. However, when the offer came, and my father accepted, I sent a second letter to Konoha, saying that _I _was going to sign the treaty, not my father. I arranged the date to be a few days early. I set off with a small group of friends and said I was going drinking. My father did not suspect anything. Obviously, _now_ he has realised—my father always was an impulsive man. No doubt he planned to kill me for betraying him."

As he spoke, Hinata noted every single action; the fact that he had first assured her he would not lie, the fact that he could not meet her gaze, the fact that he had tensed as he was speaking and then relaxed afterwards.

"You said you w—wouldn't lie," Hinata murmured, "But I still w—want the truth. The _whole_ truth."

Daisuke looked up, before scowling; momentarily, his little mask slipped. He looked furious. Then he calmly rearranged his features into a grim smile. "Of course. I should have expected you to realise, kunoichi; you're much smarter than you look. There were two reasons as to why I was going to disagree to the treaty, the first being the one I just said. The second was…"

Hinata raised a hand. She didn't need him to say it; she'd figured it out. All she'd really needed to know was the fact that there were _two_ reasons, not just one. "You don't _h—have_ any weapons to trade with us, d—do you? You lost the business."

He nodded. "I was gambling."

"How did I g—guess?"

"You'll help me, won't you?" Daisuke murmured, gripping her hand tightly and bringing it closer to his chest. Hinata peered at him once, before smiling kindly; no longer did she see the arrogant, bratty nobleman she had seen before. Perhaps it was her ability to see the goodness in everyone, but the man in front of her suddenly seemed humble and vulnerable. He needed help.

"That's my j—job," Hinata replied, before standing up and beckoning for him to do the same. "Firstly, you'll have to d—dismiss the two women; pretend you n—no longer need their services, or w—whatever. You mustn't stumble over your w—words or hesitate; if you do, they'll r—realise you know, and we'll get dragged into a f—fight. We're going to l—leave and head into the forest, where we c—can set up camp. I'll tell my teammates what's h—happening along the way. You can think of a s—suitable apology for your father."

Daisuke nodded. "You're a nice girl, kunoichi."

"S—stop calling me that," she murmured absently, leading him back towards the table. "My name's Hinata. And my f—friends are Kiba and S—Shino."

They stopped beside the table; Kiba was desperately trying to fend off the blonde girl, who was practically clambering on top of him, whereas Shino had given up completely, and was letting the darker girl do whatever she wanted. His glasses were resting on the table, but his eyes were closed and his mouth was set in a grim line. Upon hearing Hinata's approach, he snatched his sunglasses up and turned to her. He glanced from Hinata to Daisuke, nodded once, and stood up, startling the girl who'd been practically molesting him out of her wits. Daisuke stepped forwards, grabbed Kiba's drink and downed it in one.

"Come on, shinobi—_Kiba_," he corrected himself, before gesturing to the two women. "Goodbye, _ladies_; your services were much appreciated, but we no longer need you, I'm afraid. Although, these two boys appear to have had their fun."

Shino didn't respond—Kiba spluttered indignantly and would have continued to do so, had Shino not stood on his foot.

"W—we should head back to the h—hotel, before it gets too d—dark," Hinata said carefully, before smiling bashfully at the two women and inclining her head. "It was n—nice meeting you."

The blonde girl waggled one hand.

"Goodbye, _kunoichi._ We'll be seeing you."

**.**

**.**

A letter arrived for Sasuke at exactly two 'o' clock in the morning. It was stamped urgent, and sent by the fastest postman around. He handed it to Ibiki, who gave it to the Hokage, who read it to Sasuke half an hour later.

**.**

**.**

Dear Sasuke,

I don't suppose the ANBU told you, but I did _say_ I would write, so here you are, with a letter from me. Once again, I have to beg you to forgive me—forgive me for going back on my promise. No doubt you're laughing and nodding your head, because it _was_ a foolish promise, I'll admit that much. There was no way I would be able to visit you every single day, for an hour. I have a responsibility to my village. I would tell you about the mission, but this letter will probably already have been read and edited. I suppose you should be able to know that the mission is nothing more than [_THIS INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED_]; the kind of mission you'd have finished in around a day, probably.

I'm not sure what to write about, now that I'm sat here with my pen and paper. I don't often write letters. I tried once, during our academy years—we were in the same class, so you probably had to do the same thing. We had to write a letter to a penpal in a different village. I remember I wrote mine to a girl named Miki; she's a Chunnin now, in [_THIS INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED_]. She told me she never wanted to be a kunoichi, so I suppose we were alike back then. Can you remember who you wrote to?

Now that I think about it, I doubt you can remember me, even from our academy years. I never spoke in class, unless I was called on. Actually, neither did you. I remember once, Iruka asked you for an answer, and you didn't reply—you were staring out of the window. I think you were watching the cherry blossoms fall. I used to do the same thing. Except, you were so cool when you had to answer; you asked him to repeat the question and then told him the answer, cool as ice. Whenever he picked on me and I wasn't listening, I'd jump a foot in the air and stutter so badly Iruka would just move on, with a little sympathetic smile. I like to think I don't stutter as much now, but a man told me I had nice eyes recently, and I couldn't reply.

I get tongue-tied so easily. I bet you've never once been speechless, right? I know you don't talk much. We're like that when it comes to talking, though you wouldn't have guessed from this letter. I never liked talking much either, but that was because I always felt so insignificant. I wonder why you never spoke. Everyone _wanted_ to speak to you. But sometimes, you just never replied.

I'll have to go now. Kiba keeps peeking over my shoulder and trying to see who I'm writing to, which means I keep smudging the page in my haste to hide this letter. It's not that I'm ashamed! It's just, no one's allowed to know I see you. Believe me, if I could tell people, I would. [_THIS INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED_] have so many questions to ask you. We all do.

I will only be gone for a few more days. The mission may have taken a few unexpected twists and turns, but it should be over quickly. The moment I return, I will talk to you. I owe you that much, at least.

Yours truly,

Hinata.

**.**

**.**

Sasuke let Tsunade read it through once—then the Hokage straightened, placed the letter facing Sasuke on the table in front of him, and then left the room. He could not help but read the last sentence over and over again.

'_I owe you that much, at least.'_

He smirked and shook his head.

"You owe me _nothing_, Hinata."

* * *

**notes**3**: **"i really liked writing the bit with daisuke and hinata. maybe it's because hinata's finally shining."


	10. day 1o

**project: **fifty days  
**disclaimer: **i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **sasuhina, some naruhina  
**notes**1**: **"DOUBLE DIGITS FREAKING _WOO"_  
**notes**2**: **"the road outside my house is paved with good intentions"  
**notes**3**: **"you'll notice hinata's stuttering is disappearing. i plan on going through and editing it so she sounds more natural; also, i'm sorry if my fight scene sucks balls"  
**chapter: ****1o**/5o

**

* * *

**

Hinata was _not_ having a good day.

She brushed her fingers through her hair, easing out the tangles gently and attempting to hitch her bag back onto her shoulder, by shifting her hip; it didn't particularly work. The contents of her bag—shuriken, kunai, bandages, apples and a bottle of water—spilled out across the floor, and she heaved a sigh, kneeling down to pick the objects all back up again.

Daisuke stooped down besides her, smiling tentatively; he'd been nothing but humble ever since their close shave at the bar, and, since then, he'd stuck by her side like glue. For some reason, despite Shino's intelligence and Kiba's confidence, he thought _she_ was the most reliable. The idea struck her as laughable, but she said nothing, gratefully accepting the objects from the nobleman. He straightened first, hurriedly sticking his hand out for her to hold; she would have raised an eyebrow, but she wasn't that sort of person, and so she took his hand, thanking him softly.

Up ahead, Kiba rolled his eyes, before sniffing idly; originally, the plan had been that he would walk at the front, and Akamaru would walk at the back, but he'd grown bored of storming ahead on his own. Hinata had offered to cover the rear; they'd insisted, for the space of two wasted minutes, that Daisuke walk with Shino, but he'd flat out refused. Their teammate hadn't looked _that_ insulted.

"What do you do?" He asked, suddenly, startling Hinata out of her thoughts, as she fumbled with her bag—she very nearly dropped the contents then and there.

She blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't understand the q—question."

Daisuke flapped one hand absently, as though to further his point. "I mean, what do you _do?_ You can't do this all of the time, kunoichi—_Hinata_," he corrected himself before continuing, gesturing at her bag filled with weapons. "What do you do, when you've got no one to kill or save or protect? How do you sleep, once the missions are over?"

Hinata hooked her bag back over her shoulder, forming a jutsu with her hands and activating her byakugan. She fixed Daisuke with a piercing gaze, made all the more terrifying by the veins quivering beside her eyes, but perhaps softened by her small smile and heated lips. His question was intriguing; it showed how little he understood. She looked around her, staring into the leafy terrain, searching for signs of chakra, carefully considering her answer. She waited a moment, shifting her thoughts into order, before finally speaking.

"I read a book," she said, finally, and wondered if she'd said the wrong thing after Daisuke sucked in a sharp breath. "I talk with my friends. I cook dinner for my family, and spar with my c—cousin. I braid my little sister's hair, sometimes, if she's feeling funny. I cook soup for my father when he's sick. I buy flowers for my c—crush. I write in my diary. Well, I _don't_ write in my diary anymore; I g—grew out of that a long time ago. I look through old picture books and photo albums. I draw, and sometimes I paint with N—Neji. I practise my calligraphy. I fold origami. I order ramen from the r—ramen stand, and I bake cinnamon rolls. I press f—flowers. I sleep at night."

"But you—you…" He frowned, obviously confused. Hinata understood why; when she was younger, it had confused her as well.

She had been sat with Kiba and Shino, listening to Kurenai talk—and, out of nowhere, their teacher had explained that sometimes people would want to hurt them. Sometimes it wouldn't be enough just to knock-out the opponent; sometimes, that just wasn't going to cut it. Sometimes, it was kill or be killed, and if you didn't understand that, you were as good as dead. At the time, Hinata had sat with her hands held firmly in her lap, holding back her tears, waiting until everyone had left to sob quietly to herself.

Because, back then, she hadn't been able to understand _why_.

Why would anyone want to kill her? What kind of person would do such a thing? How could she kill anyone? Now, she blamed her childhood ignorance on her father, though she didn't hate him for it; he had long since decided, after her mother died, that to become too attached was a weakness. He had provided her with just enough love to spike her appetite, but not enough to quench her thirst. With an air of impassiveness, he'd handed her the best toys and finest kimonos—he'd educated her on the impressive history of their clan, as well as the history of Konoha. When Hinata was kidnapped, the gifts had become ridiculous; a gold locket, the most expensive in Konoha, lost beneath her bed when she was young—a teddy bear made out of the finest material; enough gifts to show her he'd cared.

It showed her that he'd been scared.

But, despite all the gifts, he had not truly _told_ her anything. He had trained her, just as he had done with Neji and Hanabi, but he had not informed her of what she was really going to be. In a sense, he had trained his own daughter to become a cold-blooded assassin; or, at least, that's what he had wanted.

He had gotten Hinata.

No, she didn't _cry_ herself to sleep at night, over all the people she had killed; she'd only be wasting her tears, and she didn't want to do that. She had to use her tears sparingly, on the people she cared for. She offered Daisuke a gentle, soothing smile, placing her hand on his arm. "I don't cry, because I am _t—trained_ not to," she murmured, all the while still smiling; then she pulled her hand away, fidgeting slightly. "Tears are p—precious and should not be wasted, when you're a shinobi."

Because she never knew who would disappear next.

For Naruto, it had been first his parents, then Jiraiya, and finally Sasuke. For Sasuke, it had been his entire clan. For Neji, it had been his father. For her, it had been her mother, and then, slowly, her father as well, as he became wrapped up in the politics of his clan. But anyone—anyone at all—could disappear on their mission; go out one day, smiling and laughing, and never come back; or worse, turn up in a crinkly green body bag.

She _never_ knew who would disappear next.

She didn't notice it until it was too late—neither did Kiba, but he moved a fraction of a second before she did. A kunai, flung from somewhere to her right, flew through the air and met its target, sinking into Daisuke's side with a dull thud. His eyes widened in absolute horror; and they met hers, briefly, before he sank to his knees.

The second kunai came from the left, but Hinata whirled around, bringing her kunai up to meet it and deflecting it uselessly away. Shino and Kiba reached her, then, with Akamaru not far behind; the three of them formed a tight circle around the fallen nobleman. Kiba fell into a crouch, a snarl slipping across his face, and Akamaru mimicked him—Shino remained where he was, stood impassively; the only sign of movement where the beetles beginning to slowly crawl across his face, before each lazily taking flight. Hinata leaned forwards, stretching her palms out, tensing and relaxing until she was finally happy with her stance.

Daisuke groaned weakly.

Three kunai flew through the air; two from the right, one from the left—one for each member of Team Kurenai. They soared through the air, and all three shinobi tensed, ready to defend themselves; then, almost at the last moment, the kunai fell awkwardly to the floor. Hinata let out a soft squeak of surprise—soaring low across the floor were senbon, headed for their feet; it had been a simple distraction. Get the enemy looking at one thing, while something else happens. It had been foolish for her—for _any_ of them—to fall for it. They couldn't jump out of the way, because that would leave Daisuke open and, judging from the way each senbon was positioned, getting hit would be a crippling blow.

Hinata wasn't a tactical genius; as Shino's bugs flew out to swarm over the senbon aimed at him, and as Akamaru leapt in front of Kiba, Hinata remained entirely still, waiting for the weapons to meet her. There was no way she could leap out of the way. Instead, she shifted slightly forwards, watching the approaching senbon steadily. Once they were closer, she flexed her hands and span, exerting her chakra through her palms as possible, all the while remaining low to the floor. She knew that, even without her byakugan, her chakra was visible to all.

The senbon were deflected away; they flew backwards, and gravity took hold. Useless, they clattered to the ground. There was a moment of silence. The bushes swayed in the breeze—Hinata felt her hair pick up, billowing across her face, but she remained still, her hands outstretched. She narrowed her eyes; she could see their enemy's chakra and, yet, none of the three assassins made any attempt to move.

Kiba frowned. "Why aren't they attacking?"

"They're waiting it out," Shino stated, pushing his hands into his pockets, his lips set in a grim line. "They want _us_ to attack, and no doubt trigger whatever trap they have planned."

"Explosive tags…?" Kiba questioned, cocking his head slightly, as he tugged the senbon out of Akamaru's side; the large dog whimpered softly, but otherwise made no sound. He'd been trained to take the brute force of many attacks, as he'd gotten older and larger, and so he was relatively used to the pain—still, Kiba could not help but wince sympathetically, patting his partner's head gently.

Shino shook his head, and no more questions were asked. Hinata frowned, shifting her weight from side to side, careful not to let her muscles tense up. The three assassins didn't move at all, but she'd already guessed that two of them had to be the two girls from earlier; the third was unknown. She glanced down at Daisuke. His face had gone pale, and sweat clung in thick droplets to his forehead; as she watched, beads trickled down his face and dropped onto the floor. He was clutching his side, his fingers spread around the kunai—the growing dark stain there was worrying. She looked up. "Whatever happens, we n—need to get moving before Daisuke loses too much blood."

"Then we go on the _offensive_," Kiba snapped, shooting forwards before either of his teammates could protest; he was using his nose to guide him to the nearest attacker and, as he ran, a kunai slipped into his hand.

Hinata watched in surprise as the assassin's chakra surged forwards to meet Kiba; the two met, and she heard Kiba's grunts mix with a feminine voice. It was no doubt one of the girls they'd met earlier. Shino rolled his eyes, questioning the other's techniques, before lifting his arms—bugs poured from underneath his sleeves, escaping into the forest and heading towards the second assassin. Their chakra shot forwards, ducking and dodging and weaving, attempting to reach the clearing and attack Shino, but being stopped by the bugs which swarmed around them.

The final assassin's chakra flickered as they moved closer, but Hinata made no attempt to move. Instead, she took a few steps forwards, waiting patiently for the other to arrive—whether it was a good idea or not, she didn't know. Her eyes flickered down to Daisuke. There was no way she was just going to tear away after the assassin, like Kiba. Leaving the nobleman too open at any point would certainly lead to his death.

The assassin stepped into the clearing, and Hinata narrowed her eyes. It was the blonde girl from earlier; equipped with a bag of weapons and a rather large scroll tied across her back, she offered Hinata a small smirk. Then, with an extravagant flourish, the scroll was pulled off her back and a thin curved katana appeared in its place; the girl wrapped one hand around it, using the other to stroke up and down the blade, as if to say 'just look at how _sharp_ this is.'

Hinata, however, narrowed her eyes. The use of a close-range weapon such as a sword meant that she'd no doubt end up getting closer to her opponent, which was definitely a pro for her; however, no assassin would run into a mission without being briefed on who they might come up against. The girl had to know at least something of her fighting style—and, since she was part of one of the most prestigious clans in Konoha, she guessed that quite a lot was known about her. Hinata would also have to match her kunai to the other's katana; and, due to the fact that it had been summoned with a scroll, she supposed there would be more to it than meets the eye.

"Come on, now, kunoichi," the girl said, finally, her voice taunting. "How did you plan on beating me? I may _seem_ young but I assure you I'm twice the killer you'll ever be—twice the killer _any_ Konoha nin will ever become."

She remained silent, refusing to take the bait. Arguing would be useless and simply show that she was easily provoked. The girl's smile widened, and she took a few more steps forwards, swinging her katana like a pendulum from her side. "Hurry up, little kunoichi. Hurry up and make a move. I want to slice off your pretty face."

Hinata frowned slightly, unable to hide her annoyance at such a patronizing comment: _little_ kunoichi? She was older than her opponent and taller too. Already she was being mocked. It was disappointing. Angering. If she had been anyone else, she would have launched herself into a rushed attack then and there. Instead, she straightened, slipping out of her fighting stance and bewildering her opponent.

She smiled slightly, bowing her head sharply. "I apologise, but I thought you w—were going to talk for a little longer. My arms were beginning to ache."

The girl practically hissed, her lips peeling back into a crazed scowl, her eyes wide and blazing. It shocked Hinata—stood in front of her, was a young girl who had been changed and tampered with at birth, and turned into a monster. She wondered whether her father would have considered the girl to be strong; was this what he had wanted _her_ to be?

"And who are _you_, to mock _me_?" The girl snapped. "You may be a member of the high and mighty Hyuuga clan, but your eyes are _nothing._ I have become what I am because of pure talent. I did not need a noble father to get where I am today. Unless, of course, you used _other_ means…" She let the suggestion trail off.

Hinata didn't reply—she let her actions do the talking for her.

Tilting forwards, she raced towards the girl, ducking underneath a wild swing from the enemy's sword; as she ran, she brought her palm upwards, keeping it aimed low enough to break through the girl's defence and cause vital damage. She could feel her chakra surging towards her hand, and it gave her such a huge sense of power, that a smile almost slipped across her face. The girl grunted, gritting her teeth and dodging to the side just as Hinata was about to land her blow; the Hyuuga switched direction, using her momentum to push her towards the girl once again.

In such a close combat battle, the assassin's sword was more of a hindrance than a help; it hung uselessly by her side, heavy and pathetic. It slowed her down enough for Hinata to take the upper hand, forcing her enemy to duck and weave backwards; her taijutsu was strong, yes, but nowhere near Hyuuga-level; she barely managed to keep up with Hinata, despite her extensive training. A sense of thrill shot through the Konoha kunoichi—she _had_ improved. This was her proof. She was forcing a highly-trained nin backwards; forcing them to _defend_, not _attack._

She was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride in herself; perhaps that was what caused her to slip up and make a mistake. Hinata pushed her left palm forwards, lunging a little too wildly—the girl seized the opportunity, gripping Hinata's arm and lifting her blade, forcing the Hyuuga to spin backwards and out of the way. She didn't move quickly enough—the assassin leapt backwards, making sure to keep a greater distance between her foe; short enough for her sword to reach Hinata, but long enough so that Hinata's attacks wouldn't reach her. Close combat, but not close enough.

As easily as that, Hinata lost the upper hand.

The assassin's attacks were relentless, and they were delivered with such fury behind them, that Hinata barely managed to block them. The kunai she was using to stop the blade seemed fragile and puny in her grasp; her earlier sense of power had vanished, and she was reverted to her Genin years, when she had been helpless and pathetic. _She_ had been the hindrance, to her entire team. It had been awful.

The enemy kunoichi wrapped both of her hands around the blade and drove it downwards, aiming for Hinata's head; she only just managed to bring her kunai up to defend herself. Both kunoichi sent as much chakra into their weapons as possible, attempting to use blunt strength and force of chakra to come out victorious. As far as Hinata could see, the outcome was inevitable; the girl certainly had the upper hand, and she was beginning to lose hope. She would be killed or worse, captured, and her teammates would be compromised; choose between her fate and Daisuke's. Her eyes met the girl's.

The enemy smirked. "So, tell me your name, so I can know the name of the pretty kunoichi I have killed."

Her taunts were met with a slight frown, and a look of dawning realization. Hinata pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. "It's Hyuuga _Hinata_," she replied, and brought her knee upwards—she felt her chakra surge towards that area, as she attempted to cause as much damage as possible. She wasn't going to be mocked any longer.

The assassin's eyes widened, as she doubled over, coughing; her grasp on her blade weakened slightly, and, taking advantage of the moment, Hinata kicked it away. It clattered uselessly across the floor, spinning to a halt further away, the blade pointing in the opposite direction; its blade shone silver in the sunlight and, just dimly, two figures could be made out, reflected on the metal. One of the figures was cowering, the other advancing and attacking ferociously; both were blurry and difficult to make out. Finally, the second figure surged forwards, her palm hitting the other figure square in the chest; the blow seemed average, at first, but then the figure doubled over, coughing up blood, her eyes wide and frightened.

Hinata stared blankly back down at the other, not quite seeing her—instead, she was thinking of her father. This was what he wanted her to become. This… _monster. _Would Naruto approve? No, definitely not. He'd want his old friend back, sweet and demure as always.

…would _Sasuke_ approve?

A hand fell onto her shoulder and, moving instinctively, she gripped it, pushing her hips backwards and tugging the figure forwards, attempting to flip them. There was a poof of smoke, as a substitution jutsu was used.

Shino reappeared into front of Hinata, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. She stared at him, thoughts still swirling through her mind; but then she relaxed and smiled shyly, glancing down at the injured assassin and feeling slightly guilty. Sure, it had been a fight to the death, but Hinata had acted out of character. Her negative emotions had almost entirely taken over; all the hatred, and the rage, and the oppression had spilled out of her in a rush of savage blows.

She bowed her head, startling (and possibly scaring) her enemy further. "I apologise. Your injuries were unnecessary. Please do not f—follow us, as my comrades and I leave. You need time to recover."

With that, she turned away, marching back to Daisuke, who she had entirely forgotten about during her fight. She felt Shino behind her, and heard his soft chuckle—he was proud of her, that much was for sure. Kiba was already stood by Akamaru, hastily binding Daisuke's wound and completely ignoring his own bleeding thigh—she rolled her eyes. It had to be a macho pride thing, due to the fact that the nobleman was insisting that he bandaged himself first. His words were slurred. Kiba hooked his arms underneath the nobleman's armpits, whilst Shino carefully gripped his legs; and, together, they hoisted him onto Akamaru's back, where he was secured with a rope.

As they turned to leave, Hinata heard a voice call after her.

"Aren't you going to _kill_ me, kunoichi?" The assassin shouted, her voice betraying anger and embarrassment, as well as underlying curiosity.

Hinata stopped briefly, staring down at her palms; for a second, she remembered the surge of chakra and the power she had felt. Distantly, as if they were elsewhere, she noticed Kiba and Shino stop—only Daisuke turned back to look at her, however. Her friends were too sure of her decision to even doubt her. She thought of her father and of monsters and assassins, and then she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No. I'm not going to k—kill you…"

She began walking again, glancing back pityingly over her shoulder, with a small smile.

"…I'm _stronger_ than that."

**.**

**.**

Inoichi pressed his fingers together, leaning forwards and gazing at the unconscious boy behind the glass. His first thought, upon seeing Uchiha Sasuke, was that he wasn't as flawless as his daughter had informed him, occasion upon occasion—his skin was too pale, and his eyes were haunted and aged, and his hair clung to his forehead in greasy, messy clumps. He had then realised that his daughter had never seen _this _Sasuke.

He was actually quite glad. The change in the boy would have scared her; she would have seen his raw hatred, his bitterness and his strength, and she would have cringed away.

The Hokage had given him a task—he was to search the crevices of Sasuke's mind, to find information on the Akatsuki and the team he had assembled. He was to draw the information from him, coax it from deep inside his mind, using whatever means he found appropriate. He had as long as he wanted, as long as medics were given time to fix the boy afterwards—his body and his mind.

It was then that Inoichi felt old. He had seen many things—he had seen the destruction of Konoha, time and time again; he had seen the deaths of many great people, as well as the deaths of those who weren't quite so great; and he had seen many shinobi, some of them his friends, spiral into the depths of insanity or hatred. He stared at the figure before him; Sasuke was no older than Ino, he was sure—and, yet, his forehead already bore wrinkles and his eyes had already seen too much. It was wrong, Inoichi was certain of that, but he could in no way change that.

He leaned forwards and rapped firmly on the glass—Sasuke's eyelids fluttered, but, other than that, there was no movement. Inoichi was surprised—the boy had to be pretty drugged up, not to notice such a sound; _all_ shinobi had to be alert and vigilant, constantly. He rolled his eyes and knocked again. "Uchiha, wake up. I need to speak to you."

This time, Sasuke blinked his eyes open, rolling his neck as he did so, obviously trying to rid himself of the final effects of sleep (or the drug, Inoichi wasn't sure). He wriggled his shoulders as best he could in his bindings—and Inoichi could not help but wonder _why_ the boy was so trapped. As far as the reports showed, Sasuke had never actually murdered any of the Konoha ninja or ANBU sent after him; he'd even left Naruto alive, albeit heavily injured, when they had first fought. He was dangerous, yes, but he was obviously drugged; giving him a bit of movement surely wouldn't hurt anyone.

Inoichi attempted to look sympathetic, and probably failed. The Uchiha frowned slightly, before his features shifted into an impassive, disinterested mask; he no doubt considered Inoichi to be somewhat of a threat. The blonde man smiled, silently running through his plan; he would begin with simple questions, while monitoring the other's reactions and body language—then he would use his mind reading jutsu and gather as much information as he possibly could, using any weaknesses he had discovered prior to worm his way past Sasuke's defences.

He let himself relax, his features slipping into a more natural expression—a smile curved across his lips, as he surveyed the shinobi before him. "I am Yamanaka Inoichi. I have been sent here to inform you of your situation, and a deal the Hokage is willing to make," he began, his lies slipping from his mouth easily and fluently—Lady Tsunade did not make deals with traitors.

Sasuke didn't reply. Inoichi stretched his hands out, leaning forwards and gazing at the other; his expression turned into one of exasperation.

"You do not have to keep silent, Sasuke," he said. "The Hokage will offer you a pardon in exchange for information. Your chakra reserves will be forever sealed, of course, but surely that's a small price to pay in exchange for your _freedom_? You will be able to see your friends. You will not be a shinobi, but a position of power will be offered to you—perhaps you will oversee interactions with our allies, perhaps you will be showered with riches and women. It all depends on _your_ actions, Sasuke."

He let the offer hang. It was an interrogation technique he had used often before—in fact, when asked to back up his words, he would often produce a forged scroll, stating the exact things he had said. None had seen through his tricks. They would spill everything to him, and he wouldn't have to waste a single bit of chakra on them. They would tell him everything, and then his eyes would turn cold and heartless.

'The Hokage does not make deals with traitors,' he would tell them, and leave them where they stood, mouths hanging open, faces pale. Fools.

Sasuke wasn't replying—instead, he was simply staring, and his eyes were blank. It unnerved Inoichi. He tried another winning smile. "Didn't you hear what I said? The Hokage could—"

"—I heard what you said."

Inoichi's smile faltered briefly, but he smoothed it back into place, folding his hands over his chest and waiting for Sasuke to continue. When he didn't, he frowned slightly, growing impatient. "And?"

Sasuke's lips curled into a smirk, and his mask vanished for a second. Within that moment, Inoichi realised he had been discovered—the boy had not believed a single word he had said. His tactics would have to change; he would have to rethink his entire plan. The boy gave away nothing and, when he did decide to let something slip, it was all planned; every single bit of it. He was a genius of the same brand as Nara Shikaku, planning ahead but remaining cold and calculated.

"And you're a good actor."

Inoichi let himself smile an actual, real smile. He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck and shrugging his shoulders, sheepishly. "Very clever, Sasuke. How did you figure me out?"

"I _have_ met your daughter. She did much the same thing, when I knew her. She no doubt excels at using seduction as a weapon," Sasuke murmured, closing his eyes as he spoke. He sounded exhausted. "It's probably her greatest weapon, along with her jutsu, as a kunoichi."

Inoichi was surprised to hear a grudging amount of respect in the Uchiha's voice; he couldn't help but feel proud of his daughter. He wondered how she would feel—all those years she had spent fawning over the boy, and he _had_ acknowledged her. He remembered her even now. She would no doubt be overjoyed to find out such a thing; her childhood crush had some respect for her. He decided to ignore the idea of Ino using seduction as a weapon; oh, he was definitely aware of the fact that she used such a thing—he'd seen some of the outfits she had to wear and revealing was just one word to describe them—but the idea made him cringe. Plus, he was her _father_ and she was his _baby._

He shook his head, snapping out of his trance and returning to the Uchiha in front of him. "You're smart then, aren't you? I'll assume you're aware of the fact that I'm here to interrogate you. I'll be quick about it then."

Sasuke simply nodded.

"We'll start with Orochimaru, then," Inoichi began, linking his hands together and observing the other shinobi. "What did he offer you that Konoha couldn't?"

The Uchiha's face showed no signs of emotion as he spoke; in fact, he looked bored, as though it were a question he'd been asked often. His answer was simple, as well, and blunt; it shocked Inoichi. "Power."

Plain and simple.

He narrowed his eyes. "You were being trained by Hatake Kakashi. He taught you techniques well beyond Genin level. You had friends here. And, yet, you blew it all for _power_."It wasn't a question, although it was originally intended to be; however, he couldn't believe it. He had expected something more—a detailed explanation. A rant, maybe. Anger or hatred or regret or sadness; instead, he had been faced with blunt honesty.

He could not accept it and he realised just how Naruto and Sakura had no doubt felt; the stubborn disbelief, the confusion and the anger. And, yet, all of that was almost overwhelmed by his pity for the Uchiha. He took another moment to reconsider his methods; his questions would no doubt be answered by blunt one-word answers, and the Uchiha would betray no emotion. After his earlier failure, it would no doubt be easier to skip straight to the final phase of his plan.

He closed his eyes, before offering Sasuke another little apologetic shrug—then his hands flew together, forming the jutsu. Within seconds, he felt a powerful surge tug him from his body; and then there was a feeling much like wind tearing at his face; or, perhaps that wasn't the correct term for it—it was not his face, but the face of his mind, so to speak. His spirit, depending on who you were and what you called it. After another second, he was staring at his own body, slumped in his chair, through the eyes of Sasuke.

His jutsu was successful. He could begin his exploration of Sasuke's mind.

He turned—or, rather, he didn't turn, but his mind told him he had—and gazed around him. He was stood in darkness; he could feel a low hum pulsing through his body. He took a step forwards and felt his foot squelch in something wet. He looked down. Inoichi's eyes widened in surprise—_blood._ It trailed off into the darkness. He frowned and passed a hand over his face, heaving a sigh; a memory. He had stepped into a memory.

'…_some kind of defence mechanism?' _He murmured, stooping down to take a closer look at the liquid, and the words seemed to echo in his head, loud and pounding. He winced.

'_Hn.'_

Inoichi's eyes widened. He hadn't expected a response, least of all one off Sasuke—and, yet, it was Sasuke's voice he had heard, clear as day. He straightened, turning once in a full circle until he finally found what he was looking for—a small figure, stood hunched over, its ink-black hair falling over its face and hiding its expression. Inoichi tensed, instinctively bringing his fists up towards his chest, slipping into a defensive stance—it was often necessary to beat the enemy into submission, when extracting information from their mind.

'_Did you think Orochimaru had taught me nothing?'_ It was the boy speaking—it looked up and, although its skin was young, its eyes were old; it didn't sound mocking. Its voice showed mild surprise, but that was all. '_You will not gain any information. Give up now.'_

Inoichi narrowed his eyes, letting out a soft grunt of annoyance. He had expected the Uchiha to have some defence, yes, but this seemed difficult. As far as he could tell, he was trapped in a memory; and, judging from the pool of blood and Sasuke's age, the memory could only be of the massacre of the Uchiha clan. He loosened his stance, ready to attack or defend when the time came.

The memory raised an eyebrow, before raising one arm and pointing behind Inoichi. '_Don't turn your back on the enemy.'_

His eyes widened, and he leapt out of the way, hearing the familiar sound of metal cutting through the air as he did so. He skidded to a halt, turning as he did so in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his attacker—if it was who he thought it was, then he was in for some trouble. Inoichi barely had time to slip a kunai out of his pouch, before the attacker surged forwards, a thin katana in his hands. His clothes were stained red with blood; his attacks were ferocious but planned. He was skilled.

He was stronger than Inoichi.

Of course, what had he expected? His attacker was none other than Uchiha Itachi, the man who had single-handedly murdered an entire clan, when he was barely older than a boy. It was only a memory. It was no doubt how Sasuke had seen Itachi, when he had ran from him all those years ago; and it was very interesting, yes, to see that Sasuke not only saw Itachi as a nightmare, but also as a defence—which meant that something had changed for Sasuke, after leaving the village. No matter; that was a thought he could puzzle over later.

At that moment, he had to think of a way to get rid of Itachi.

The memory was fast, and no doubt the real Itachi had been faster, but, as much as he wanted to, Inoichi could not afford to spend any time admiring the other. He would have to get rid of Itachi or leave Sasuke's mind empty handed. He was straying towards the latter idea; he had not been prepared to fight anyone, and was at a great disadvantage. As he dodged and weaved backwards, his eyes flew to the little boy.

The memory smiled—a huge, crazed smile.

'_Get out of my head.'_

Inoichi decided to take Sasuke's advice. He was not going to win—there was no way he'd have beaten Itachi, even at his prime, years ago. No, even the memory, which was considerably weaker than the original, was far stronger than him. His hands moved rapidly, and he released his jutsu; as he did so, the katana arched through the air, curving towards his neck. He felt a peculiar tug at his body, and his eyes closed; within a few seconds, he was gone.

When he opened his eyes, he was panting heavily and gazing at an equally fatigued Sasuke. The Uchiha glanced up, his brow sweaty, and caught Inoichi's gaze. They shared a moment of silence, and then Inoichi finally smiled, nodding approvingly.

"I underestimated you," he admitted, folding his arms and offering another wary smile. "Your defences are strong—I should have come better prepared. Nonetheless, I won't be getting anything from you through force. I shall inform the Hokage of that. Not that she'll listen."

He straightened and bowed his head, in respect. As he did so, his gaze shifted towards the table, and he noticed a white envelope addressed to Sasuke resting on it. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, before glancing back to the Uchiha—apparently the boy had noticed it as well, because his lips were set in a small smile. Inoichi glanced back at it; he didn't recognise the handwriting. Even so, it wasn't his problem.

He turned to leave.

"Wait."

Inoichi paused, barely registering the croak as Sasuke's voice. Then he turned, raising his eyebrows again and peering at the boy. The Uchiha nodded towards the table, at the envelope, and said, "Could you read it?"

He hesitated, but he couldn't see a reason not to, and so he nodded his head, moving over to the table. He picked it up and tugged the letter out of the envelope. After methodically smoothing the paper a few times—hey, he arranged flowers as part of his living. He preferred things to be neat and tidy—he began to read.

**.**

**.**

Dear Sasuke,

I feel silly writing to you; I much prefer speaking to you. It's more of a conversation; _this_ sounds like I'm lecturing you, or writing a school report on what I've done today. _This_ makes me feel like a little girl, when what I want to be is a strong kunoichi—and I think, after today, that I am one step closer towards my goal.

I feel all the more sillier now, because what I'm about to ask is no doubt considered to be a stupid question, but I'll ask nonetheless: are shinobi truly strong? A friend asked me how I can sleep at night, after all the things I've done—and no doubt the things I've done are nothing, compared to what you've done and been through—but I couldn't answer at first. When I did, I said _easily._ I told him that I can't afford to waste my tears. And no doubt my friend thought that was monstrous of me; either that, or I was too strong to be affected. Which is it, Sasuke?

Are we strong, or are we monsters?

I was asked such a thing by an enemy shinobi, in a roundabout way. They asked if I was going to kill them. I told them no. I said that I was stronger than that. But I wonder… Did I do the right thing? Is it true strength, to let an enemy run free? I can't help but feel that I did something pretentious. A _true_ shinobi would have killed them painlessly. I left them with internal bleeding, lying on the ground.

[_THIS INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED_] killed his. [_THIS INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED_] didn't; he knocked them unconscious, and left them there.

What would you have done?

Yours truly,

[_THIS INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED_]

**.**

**.**

Sasuke closed his eyes, letting a small smile slip across his face; for a few seconds, he wondered why they'd erased Hinata's name—after all, he'd assumed it was common knowledge that the Hyuuga was visiting him. Then again, no doubt the Hokage was keeping it a secret; after all, the daughter of a highly-respected, noble clan leader visiting a traitor would no doubt cause scandal if the villagers found out about it.

He was well aware of the fact that Inoichi was watching him closely, searching for signs of weakness, and the Uchiha arranged his features into a blank expression. There was no point giving him anything to go on—if Sasuke did, the man would be back over and over again, in an attempt to find out more. Not that he'd tell him anything.

"You're an admirable person, Sasuke," the Yamanaka said, and Sasuke merely raised his eyebrows in response—well, this was definitely _new. _He had been called many things, since returning to Konoha, but admirable wasn't one of them. "You're strong; you're intelligent; and you have—_had—_a great future ahead of you. You would have been truly remarkable."

Inoichi heaved a great sigh, slipping the letter back onto the desk, close enough for Sasuke to read if he strained his eyes, and turned away. He waited for a moment, hesitating, before sighing again and moving towards the door.

Upon reaching the exit, he stopped.

"It seems that even admirable people can descend into darkness."

With that, the blonde interrogator left, no doubt off to report his failure to the Hokage, and the two all-too familiar ANBU members stepped into the room. He watched idly as they took up their usual positions, their arms folded across their chests, gazing impassively at him, but not quite at him. He'd often wondered how they'd respond if he tried to talk to them. No doubt they'd stare quizzically at him and then fall back into silence.

He yawned.

He was admirable, was he…?

He stared off into the distance, a small smile tugging at his lips. Admirable, remarkable—even after his descent into darkness. Was _that_ what they saw, when they looked into his eyes? Did they see the ghost of a man who could never have been—a respectable Jounin for the Village Hidden in the Leaves? Did they look at him and sigh and shake their heads? Did they really _patronize _him so greatly? Did his dirty, cheating village really still value him that highly? What, did they think he was going to spill all of his secrets, just because they'd whispered about a life that would never be?

Uchiha Sasuke threw back his head and laughed.

**

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**

**notes**4**: **"i just started rewatching full metal alchemist. edward is a sexy mofo"


	11. day 11

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto, or the characters in it.  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.  
**pairings: **SasuHina, some NaruHina  
**beta'd: **21.09.2010, by SilveringBlue_  
_**chapter: ****11**/5o

* * *

**notes**1**: **

I swear, I'll never leave it this long to update again. The holidays stopped a week ago, and, ever since, my teachers have thought it would be absolutely _hilarious _to overload us with work and just general junk which will never help me in my future life. I mean, who even _cares_ about the ingredients of perfume? If I wanted to know, I'd, I don't know, take a look at the side of the bottle? Have a look at the packaging?

Science should be _optional_, goddamnit!

But NOOOO. D:

IHATESCHOOL.

You can probably expect a NaruHina date within the next few chapters—and hopefully a bit of tummy-tingling SasuHina fun. Oh, I also threw in a bit of NejiTen. It's not a favourite pairing of mine, but I still think it's cute. Also, I can actually see it happening, so this isn't me just saying, "Woah, I fancy a bit of (random generic pairing) right now!" Plus, I've hinted at it! In chapter six, baby. ;D

Almost as cute as LeeSakura. :D

**

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**

**.**

.

.

Hinata pressed her fingers against her lips, leaning forwards slightly in an attempt to get a better look at the sleeping Daisuke. He seemed so much more frail than he had once been. He was a completely different man to the one she had met days earlier—the one who had charmed her so easily, his arms wrapped around two sleazy 'hookers'.

It was surprisingly worrying.

He murmured in his sleep, his head turning to face her, and she studied his features; his skin was pale and washed out, no doubt because of his earlier blood wash, and his brow was furrowed. He seemed discontent. Gently, tentatively, she lifted the blankets that she'd heaped upon him, and studied his upper torso—the kunai had hit his side, and the wound was slotted between his ribs; underneath the bandages, it had been angry and red. Now, although the bandages were stained pale pink, it seemed better.

It was hardly life-threatening, that was for sure; and, with a little bit of tender love and care, he would no doubt be healthy in no time.

However, she wasn't worried about that; she was more worried about the man's father. After all, it was _him_ who had sent the assassins, and after his own son, nonetheless! Her eyes narrowed, and she felt herself tense; she couldn't help but feel that, the moment they left, Daisuke would end up _very _dead.

It was sad. Distantly, she could see herself and her own father, in their relationship. She had seen the disdain in the older man's face as they had carted an unconscious, bleeding Daisuke through the door, and she had seen the irritation flit briefly across his features, when a medic had announced that he was going to be okay. Although the distance between father and child had seemed worse for Daisuke, she had seen her own relationship with her father reflected in them, and that had saddened her more than anything. She had recognised the occasional look of disappointment, and the wistfulness in the father's features.

Hinata had seen it in the eyes of her own father.

She sighed, letting the blankets fall back onto the sleeping noble. Oh well—she had done all she could, and that was all that mattered. She stood, dusting herself down, and offered the other a feeble smile. "Good luck, Daisuke."

She turned, making her way to the door, and was about to leave when the nobleman stirred, letting out a soft, broken chuckle. "Ah, y—you too, kunoichi," he mumbled, the defeat evident in his voice. Obviously, he had also been thinking of his probably short future, and he passed a hand wearily across his forehead. "Hopefully, we'll meet again."

Hinata felt her smile stretch into a full grin, although it didn't seem appropriate—but Daisuke's features split into a smile as well, and she knew he'd forgive her, just this one time. She pushed open the door, leaning slightly against it as she turned to face him.

He was sitting up, propping himself on one elbow, the cushions bunched around him, and in his pale features she saw someone familiar, and felt a twinge of homesickness. She bit her lip, extinguishing her smile, and bowed her head politely, her hair falling like a curtain in front of her face.

"I look forwards to it, Daisuke."

With that, Hinata turned and left the room, backing away before the nobleman could even begin to form an answer. She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes fixed ahead of her, and she noticed, distantly, that the door opposite her was open. An old man—Daisuke's father—peered out at her; his lips were downturned, and his brow was furrowed; but his eyes were tired, and his forehead was crinkled with age.

"You understand, don't you?"

For a few seconds, she didn't know what he was talking about. She bit her lip again, paused, and then shook her head, her eyes firm. "No; I'm sorry, but I don't understand—and I never will. He's your _son."_

The man faltered, before nodding hesitantly. "I know," he practically whispered, before disappearing back inside the room he'd emerged from. Hinata raised her eyebrows, before shaking her head slowly and heading towards the exit. Her mind whirred as she walked, and she couldn't help but wonder what he had meant.

How _could_ she understand?

He wanted to destroy the son he had raised, and he wanted to do it because of a gambling addiction, which had probably started because of one little mistake. Steadily, gradually, it had spiralled out of control, until it had turned into a bitter conflict—with the son, spurned and angry, on one side, and the father, furious and disappointed in equal measure, on the other.

The similarities were endless.

Both Hinata and Daisuke had run from their parental figures. Hinata had begun to train more vigorously, away from her father, and Daisuke's gambling had grown steadily worse. However, though Hinata's relationship with Hiashi had not improved, it hadn't tumbled downhill, like Daisuke's had with _his _father.

Oh, she could still be grateful about the little things in life. Her smile turned bitter, and she secretly wished that she was brave enough to try and change things. Her father wasn't a monster, although she had often found herself thinking that—he was just a sad, old man, who had believed his daughter to be something she wasn't, and then blamed her for his misjudgement. It wasn't a sin; she could hardly curse his name for the rest of his life because of it.

She had made her mistakes.

He had made his.

But _still_—even the mere thought of Hiashi made her knees turn to jelly, and her heartbeat quicken. He wasn't a monster, but her perception of him had nightmare-ish qualities. She shivered, crossing her arms over her body, as she thought of him. She was scared of him, though she would never let herself admit it—after all, how awful did that sound?

Her own _father_ scared her.

Hinata let out a soft sigh, as she rounded a bend, very nearly bumping into a young woman heading the other way. The maid slipped around her in the nick of time, apologising hastily, and Hinata found herself doing the very same thing. She bowed her head, saying something about how she could be so clumsy sometimes, before turning away. Now that she had stopped, she realised that she wasn't entirely certain as to where she was; she pressed her fingers together, jigging from foot to foot, as her head swivelled back and forth.

No, now that she thought about it…

Where on earth _was_ she?

"Ah, sometimes I _wish _I had Kiba's sense of direction…" she moaned, running her fingers through her hair. Then she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, as she remembered her byakugan. It was, after all, useful for times like these; and she highly doubted anyone else in the building would have the same levels of chakra as Kiba or Shino. She pressed her fingers lightly against her forehead, her brow furrowing. "_Byakugan!"_

Her sight changed, and the world turned green and black—webs of chakra seemed to thread through the air, faint, shimmering like dust underneath the sun's rays—and there, in the distant, she could see a swirling web of chakra. It seemed to be twisted into a ball, threading out across the faint shadow of a human body. Not too far from it was another person, with a similar amount of chakra, spotted with dark, tiny smudges. Her face lit up, and she deactivated her byakugan, having already found her friends.

She began to walk again, this time with renowned vigour. It would be her fault if they were late returning to Konoha. Each of them had things they needed to do, and Kiba, having decided he was leader of the mission, would have to submit a report to the Hokage. Likewise, he would have to hand in the signed treaty—and she would have to visit Sasuke.

She felt herself falter, almost tripping over her feet as she stopped. Her thoughts had always, at one point, returned to Sasuke, during the duration of the mission, and she could not help but wonder what he thought of her letters.

And, even as she thought of him, she realised how little she had thought of Naruto.

It was surprising, but she could not help but feel an inkling of loss. The boy—no, the _shinobi_—she adored and respected, to the point where she had felt almost obsessed with him, was slowly vanishing from her thoughts.

No, perhaps that wasn't the best way of putting it; after all, her mind still strayed to Naruto every now and then, and she still respected him. She felt a good deal of pride, when she thought of all he had done, and she still felt her cheeks flush red as she thought of him. Her love for him was still strong; but he was steadily, gradually disappearing—_fading _from her thoughts. Hinata wasn't sure whether to feel happy or not.

She rounded a corner, still puzzling over her thoughts, and collided with a familiar form, her head bumping into Kiba's chest. Almost instinctively, his arms flew from his side, patting her back and holding her closer—a gesture which was all too familiar. After all, the position was one they had practised since first forming Team Kurenai.

"Hey; nice of you to _finally_ join us," he grinned, pressing his hands against her shoulders and holding her out, inspecting her features carefully. "I was wondering where you'd wandered off to. Did you get lost, _again?"_

Hinata's cheeks flushed red, and she smiled weakly, embarrassed—oh, he knew her _way_ too well. "I had to say goodbye to Daisuke," she mumbled, shrugging, "And I must have made a w—wrong turn somewhere, because I, uhm, got lost…"

Kiba simply chuckled, slapping her on the back, before turning towards Shino—the other was frowning slightly, obviously calculating the loss of time and the distance they were going to have to cover in his head. Upon catching Hinata's eye, he offered her a small, comforting smile. He pushed his glasses up his nose, before tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket and turning away.

"We need to depart," he said, moving forwards and holding the door open for his fellow teammates. Kiba rolled his eyes before nodding in affirmative, beckoning for Akamaru to follow, and Hinata made sure to bow her head in thanks as she passed.

Upon glancing at her surroundings, Hinata realised that it was still relatively early. The sun had barely risen into the sky, and the trees cast long shadows over the ground. The path they had raced down the night before, carrying an injured Daisuke, certainly seemed less daunting; it had seemed windier, longer, the night before—but now, gazing at it, she realised it was only her panic which had made it seem never-ending. She let herself smile at how silly she'd been; after all, she _was _supposed to be a kunoichi. She wasn't supposed to buckle underneath the pressure so easily.

A cool breeze tugged playfully at her hair, as though reminding her of what she was supposed to be doing—Kiba, sitting astride Akamaru, was already further down the path, nearing a bend. Shino glanced back at her, and, although she couldn't see it, she knew he was smiling.

"Are you coming, Hinata?"

The heat rose to her cheeks, and she nodded hastily, speeding up to catch up with her teammates—she noticed Kiba shake his head affectionately, too excited to slow down, but Shino stopped for her.

They walked side by side, her eyes fixed on the small of Kiba's back, Shino's eyes downturned and gazing at the path. The silence was a comfortable one, as it usually was with Shino; if he ever were to ask her, she would definitely admit that she liked his quiet nature.

He was so _easy _to talk to.

"What were you thinking about?" he murmured, and she snuck a sideways glance at him—she couldn't read his expression, and the sunlight shone off his sunglasses, hiding his eyes entirely from view.

She shrugged slightly, her gaze returning to Kiba. "I was just thinking of what I have to do, when I get back to Konoha, I suppose," she replied, softly, folding her arms over herself. "When do you t—think we'll get back, anyway?"

"It could take us anywhere from around six hours, to eleven," Shino replied easily, mimicking her earlier shrug. "It depends on how many rests we take, how fast we walk, whether we decide to run at any point…"

"We should probably speed up, then; after all, Kiba has to hand in his report, and you probably want to get home and see your family—and, I… I have someone I have to visit."

He raised an eyebrow, turning slightly to face her. "Someone to visit? You wouldn't happen to be talking about Uzumaki Naruto, would you?"

Hinata blinked, startled. Naruto…? Why would she have been talking about Naruto? Her gaze turned puzzled, briefly—and Shino stored that little expression in his mind, curious now, despite himself—before she offered him a forced smile. "Ah, y—yeah, I guess…"

"I _see._"

She offered him another sheepish smile, her cheeks heating up, and she began to pick up her pace, "I guess we'd better hurry up, then, right?"

It was puzzling, yes, and her actions _were_ rather suspicious—but Shino wasn't about to ask her who she was really going to visit; or if, in fact, she was going to visit anyone at all. It wasn't his business, no matter what Kiba said. She would tell him _if _she wanted to, and only _when _she wanted to. He had no need to press her for information; they were friends, after all.

Hinata would tell him when she was ready.

He watched as she caught up with Kiba, the other boy laughing loudly at some joke he'd cracked, and found himself frowning, although he had no idea why. Shino shook his head and quickened his pace to catch up with his friends, all the while repeating the same mantra in his head.

Hinata's business had nothing to do with him.

**.**

**.**

Neji frowned, scratching the skin of his right arm absently as he waited for his teammates to arrive. Usually Lee would arrive first, claiming that the morning air made him feel fresh and youthful, but this time, upon reaching their usual training place, he had found the area deserted. He could understand, though, why his spandex-clad teammate often turned up earlier—it was a peaceful place.

They trained in the middle of a grassy clearing; the grass had long since been worn down and replaced with patches of dirt. The bark of the trees closest to their training place had peeled away, and there were scratches and notches where some weapon had thudded into the wood; there weren't that many flowers. A bird flew across the clearing, singing merrily, and a few clouds drifted across the sky.

Gazing upwards, he knew exactly why Shikamaru spent so long simply watching the clouds float by—it was relaxing, and there was a sort of hazy quality to it. Despite the fact that he knew he'd get stains on his clothing, he kneeled down, shifting until he was lying on his back, with his hands pinned firmly by his sides; a few strands of hair fell across his face, but he made no attempt to move them. He was fine, like that, simply lying there; he felt calm.

He let himself close his eyes—let his mind stray.

His thoughts landed on Hinata—as they often did—and his brow furrowed instantly. She'd been so cut off, acting so distant; had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have been surprised at all. No, although she was shy and bashful, Hinata often spent time talking to him. Whether it was about big things or little things, it never mattered. Although conversational topics were often difficult to find, she _would_ find one. He tried when he was around her, as well. He would try and talk more, about the littlest things—although often he found the topics silly or meaningless—but he would try nonetheless, because she was _Hinata._

He had started trying after the Chunin exams.

He passed a hand over his forehead, as a shadow fell over his face—he cracked open one eye, and saw Tenten crouched down beside his head, twirling a kunai around her middle finger, one eyebrow raised. He shifted, almost immediately attempting to sit up, but she pressed her hand against his chest, gently pushing him back down, a smile slipping across her face.

"Don't," she said, the smile turning into a full-out grin. "You looked so _happy_ like that—and trust me, it's a nice change. If you frown so much, you're going to get wrinkles."

He raised an eyebrow, not quite relaxing, but letting her push him back into his original position. "…why would that matter?"

"Oh, it _wouldn't_," she replied, before re-thinking. "Actually, I take that back; you'd look like _Hiashi._"

"…would that be a bad thing?"

"_Yes. _I like you as, well, _you._"

He chuckled quietly, rubbing his forehead again—and then, against his better judgement, patting the grass beside him. Tenten seemed to freeze; and her eyebrow shot upwards again, this time quizzical, and vaguely mocking; before slipping into a relaxed position beside him—not close enough to touch him, but near enough for him to feel the heat radiating from her arms. For some reason, cloud watching didn't seem so relaxing anymore, and he had the sudden urge to drag her to her feet before Lee could arrive and spoil the moment entirely.

They lay there in silence (with his mind suddenly filled with Tenten, instead of Hinata) until he could stand it no longer—he wasn't the kind of person who could lie down for any amount of time, so closely to a friend.

To _Tenten._

It was… unheard of—_odd._

He sat up, shifting easily into a crouch and standing. Tenten propped herself up on one elbow, frowning momentarily; and then came the all-too familiar eyebrow raise, and he rolled his eyes in response.

"Tenten, you're hardly the kind of person who can stay still for any length of time," he lied easily, despite the fact that _she_ had been quite content, and it had been _him_ who felt uneasy.

He offered her his hand, but she ignored it, choosing to push herself up off her hands and land in an easy crouch beside him. _Always the show-off. _This time, he stopped the eye-roll from coming, and instead folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to make the first move; after all, he wasn't sure whether to begin the sparring session, or wait for his final teammate to show up.

A kunai flew past his face, and he moved his head just in time, but still, he felt something warm trickle down his cheek. His fingers flew to the wound, and he pressed the liquid against his lip—yes; definitely blood.

Tenten smirked, already whirling a second kunai around her finger, her other hand inching to the scrolls on her back. "Are you done daydreaming, Neji? Take me _seriously_ already."

Neji slid into an aggressive fighting stance, one arm stretched behind him, the other beckoning for her to move. He let a brief, fleeting smile pass across his face.

"I _always_ take you seriously, Tenten."

**.**

**.**

Naruto hadn't been outside for any great period of time—nor had he met with anyone else—since Hinata had turned up at his door. She had spoken only the truth, that much he would admit, but it had hurt him; until then, he'd been content mourning the loss of his friend—because, back then, he had been sure Sasuke was as good as dead—but now…?

Now, she'd given him hope.

Plus, Kakashi had broken to his house, in the middle of the afternoon, to deliver a message from Iruka—his old teacher had insisted that Naruto meet him for ramen and Naruto had agreed, even if he knew it was just an excuse to get him out of his lonely home.

He tucked his hands into his pockets, his jacket tied around his waist, and made his way towards the ramen bar. He walked with a slouch, and his movements were sluggish. The villagers would later comment that his eyes had seemed so tired and lonely; but they would admit that it only made sense—after all, he'd lost his best friend. He rolled his eyes; the whispers had begun even as he passed, like a tide. His eyes flickered upwards, and he watched a single, solitary cloud drift by; the gesture reminded him of a friend, and he let a smile flicker briefly across his face.

"Hey! Hey, _Naruto!" _

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts—and his eyes met Iruka's. His features split into a wide grin, and he waved, speeding up to meet his old teacher; the man never seemed to change a bit, no matter how long they went without seeing each other. He was always a warm man, with brown eyes, a slight tan and darker hair. The sight of him made something light up inside Naruto; and he almost always smiled.

When he finally caught up with his old friend, Iruka pulled him into a brief, fleeting hug, patting his back as if to show how concerned he was. He tensed, momentarily, before chuckling, and relaxing. Then Iruka's hands moved away, and he drew backwards, holding his student at arm's length and inspecting the blonde.

Naruto looked tired—that much was true—and his eyes _were_ lonely; but there was something else underlying it all. It was a confusing expression, because, had that 'something else' not been there, Naruto would have looked entirely depressed. Even his bright blonde locks had lost their usual bounce, and his skin was pretty pale. He looked as though he'd been ill for a good amount of time, and had probably lost a few pounds. He'd heard that Tsunade hadn't given the boy any missions lately, to give him 'time to grieve'.

He pursed his lips. They were doing it all _wrong. _If they left Naruto alone in his flat, with no one to speak to and nothing to do, his thoughts would eventually turn to Sasuke, and from there to sadness.

He flung one arm around the boy's shoulder, chatting needlessly (and endlessly) about his job at the Academy, and his latest class—"there's this one boy who's just like _you. _A loud mouth, an idiot, and the nicest smile I see all day!"—as Naruto smiled and nodded politely. They neared the ramen bar in enough time, and Teuchi's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his favourite blonde customer—his lips wrinkled into a smile.

"Two ramen, please," Iruka said, placing a few coins down on the counter.

Teuchi considered them, raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head, turning away and heading towards the kitchen. "These ones are on the house, Iruka—_Naruto. _Eat as much as you like!"

Ah, the golden words.

Naruto's face lit up, and he practically threw himself across the counter, peering into the kitchen. "_Ehh? _You _really_ mean it, old man?"

He merely nodded, and Naruto let out a whoop of joy, his grin lighting up at the prospect of ramen. Iruka rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly—that was _just _like Naruto. They sat in silence, waiting for the meals, and Iruka's fingers almost immediately flew up to trace his scar, as he often did when he was nervous. The slight bump—the soft ridge—the puckered edges; all of it relaxed him, as his fingers traced their normal route across the bridge of his nose. He opened his mouth to speak, caught Naruto watching him, and immediately shut it again. His hands dropped to his lap.

"…is something wrong?"

Iruka closed his eyes for a moment, before letting a small, concerned smile slip across his face, as he turned to look at his old student. For a few seconds, he couldn't recogise him. Gone was the usual shining smile and eyes; in it's place was nothig but sadness. It scared him, that such a cheerful person could suddenly turn to darkness. He would never have said it, but it reminded him of Sasuke.

He wasn't going to let Naruto be like that.

"You're a smart kid, Naruto," he began. "So you'll already know why I brought you here—firstly, to get you out of the house; secondly, to see you again; and, finally, because you need to grow _up._"

His face turned stern with the last point, and Naruto's smile faded.

"This _isn't_ the Naruto I know. The Naruto I know would have continued fighting, no matter who he was up against; whether it was friend or foe, or the damn _Hokage_, he would have never lost hope!" Iruka frowned, his fingers itching towards his scar again—but he stopped them just in time, and took a deep breath. "You've been _sulking. _I _know_ you're young, and I _know_ you're really just acting your age, but you can't afford to do that; you're going to be the Hokage, remember? When would a Hokage ever sulk, like a whiny brat?"

A smile flew briefly across Naruto's face.

Iruka took that as approval, and so continued. "I don't know what's up with you—well, I _do_ know—but you've forgotten that other people are hurting, as well. Remember Sakura? She may break into tears whenever she thinks of him, but she's handling it better than you are; she's holding strong, whether it's for you, or Sasuke, more than it is for _her. _So, why can't you do the same? She needs her pillar. _You_ need _your_ bridge. And… _and…_"

He trailed off, unable to think of anything else—and Naruto tilted his head, before laughing happily. Iruka narrowed his eyes, unable to see what was funny. "…_what?"_

"Iruka, you should leave the inspirational speeches for someone who can do them a bit better," Naruto replied easily, grinning at the other's disgruntled expression.

"That's hardly the point—!" Iruka began, crossing his arms and feeling rather put-out; it hadn't been the best speech, that much was true, but it had been as truthful as possible. He'd meant every word of it, too.

"—no, I _understand."_

Iruka blinked, raising an eyebrow slowly, patiently waiting for his former student to go on—Naruto grinned, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, and looking anywhere but at him. He frowned, his fingers running anxiously across his scar, before dropping into his lap. Teuchi placed two bowls in front of them, but Naruto ignored his, obviously thinking deeply about something; about his response, no doubt.

"…Hinata visited me a few days ago. I thought she wanted to rearrange the date—y'know, the one we organised, after the entire Pein incident. That day, when I was supposed to be meeting her… I never saw her _once. _What does that say, huh? I guess it shows just how much I cared, right?" He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair and then heaving a sigh. "When she turned up at my door, I thought she wanted to rearrange—but she _didn't. _She turned up, because she was _worried _about me; and I hadn't even paid her a second thought."

He smiled slightly.

"She's _way _too nice, Iruka. If I'd done that to Sakura, I would have been punched halfway out of Konoha; and I'd be crawling along the ground, begging for her to take me back. I don't think I even rearranged the date, after all that; after everything she said, and everything she did. I guess I can be a real bastard," he continued, before chuckling again. "I'm sorry for making you worried—for leaving Sakura on her own, and for cutting myself off. And I want to say I'm sorry to Hinata, too—and I want to thank her."

Iruka raised an eyebrow.

"…so rearrange the date."

"Excuse me?"

"Eat your ramen, it's getting cold," his former teacher snapped, reaching for his own bowl and offering Naruto a fond smile. "Besides, if you're talking about the Hinata _I _know, then it's nowhere near as bad as you make it out to be. I doubt she even thought of it like that; she's probably already forgiven you, if she did."

"You think so?"

"Of course," Iruka nodded, before letting his features slip into a scowl. "And don't try and feed me any stories, Naruto—I know that you haven't been thinking _only_ of Hinata, for all this time. You're going to have to face the facts eventually."

Naruto merely smiled, winding a few noodles around his chopsticks and placing the food in his mouth.

For the rest of the meal, they didn't talk about Sasuke—or Hinata—once.

**.**

**.**

They arrived in Konoha as the sun was just setting—Hinata bid farewell to her teammates, making up an excuse _("I ought to go and see my f—father; he's no doubt worried.") _and heading off in the opposite direction to them. Kiba and Shino shared a glance_—"Do you think we should tell her that her house is _that _way?"—_before shrugging and making their way to the Hokage's office, ready to submit their report.

Hinata, meanwhile, was running full-sprint to the prisons; Ibiki had never spoken to her of a curfew, but she highly doubted it was beneath him, or Tsunade, to make one up after she left. Halfway there, she almost bumped into Shikamaru, managing to skid around him just in time; he raised an eyebrow, watching her hurry away, and frowned.

Hyuuga Hinata, a noble, respected individual, was running towards Konoha's prison, where only the most notorious of criminals were kept.

His thoughts flew back to the meeting he'd been present at, between the council members and the Hokage; gears turned and cogs whirred; and a small smirk crossed over his features. He stretched his arms behind his head, yawned loudly, and continued on his walk.

They didn't call him a genius for nothing.

Hinata, oblivious to the danger she could possibly be in, made it to the prison in under five minutes—Ibiki's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, at seeing her there, but he lead her in anyway. "…I thought you were on a mission."

"I was," she mumbled, her voice quiet as she attempted to steady her breathing.

"That was quick."

"It was a quick mission," she agreed, and they rounded a corner—it felt relatively familiar to her now; not completely, but almost. Three doors passed and, sure enough, there was Uchiha Sasuke's cell. Ibiki unlocked the door and yanked it open, holding it out for her like the gentleman he was—she bowed her head in thanks and stepped inside.

Sasuke's head shot upwards.

Although his expression didn't change, she _swore_ she saw relief and happiness in his eyes.

"_Hinata…"_

She nodded, making her way to her usual position—not forgetting to murmur a greeting to the two still ANBU guards—and sat down in her chair. She shifted until she was comfortable, clasped her hands in her lap, and offered him a small smile.

"Sasuke… I'm _back."_

**.**

**.**

When Hinata left that night, his cell felt bare. The two ANBU were good for nothing, and very rarely conversed with each other, let alone him, and the vase of flowers he'd spent so long staring at had since withered away and died. The letters Hinata had sent him were safely tucked away in a corner of his cell, the only things he was allowed to keep in there; because, after all, what could he do with some pieces of paper?

He'd entertained himself for hours on end, thinking of _ideas._

No, that didn't change anything.

His cell felt awfully lonely.


	12. day 12

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto, or the characters in it.  
**dedication: **to blue, whom has always been a star, and will continue to be. to all of the people who've reviewed, and to the aag girls.

******chapter: **12/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**: **

guys, i am _so _sorry, _again. _(i promise, at some point, i will update with the speed that i used to — but i guess things have just gotten haywire.) but, uhm, here comes the update — a little later than usual. plus, i sort of ended up obsessed with the **a**uthors **a**ppreciation **g**uild, which is the awesome new forum i post in — it's going to end up being a beautiful way to help writers improve, considering the amount of helpful guides there'll be.

i just realised; looking back, at chapter 7, i was squealing about 101 reviews — and i didn't even make a joke about dalmatians. WHAT A LOST OPPURTUNITY.

but, what i'm trying to say is thank you. you guys are the reasons why i feel guilty at night; because, you all take the time to review, and i'm so lazy it takes me _weeks_ to update. so, just for you guys, the sasuhina moments should get much longer.

so, enjoy!

:)

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata had insisted on doing the shopping, despite the fact that the morning was cold and sharp, and the clouds were quickly turning grey.

She had insisted, despite the fact that there would usually be a branch member who would do those so-called _demeaning_ chores — her father had raised an eyebrow, but had otherwise remained silent. She _had_, after all, been rather forceful about the entire thing, when Neji had told her he was going out to train with Lee, anyway, and that he would pass the marketplace on his way back from his sparring session. She had firmly, but politely, shaken her head; then, without letting anyone protest any further, Hinata had grabbed her coat and left the building.

In reality, she wanted to escape the Hyuuga compound — ever since returning from her mission, she had been almost constantly hounded by Hanabi. Her sister — who had yet to take part on a B-rank mission — would almost always ask her as many questions as possible about her missions; and Hinata would try and answer them to the best of her ability, without giving away classified information.

She thought it was cute, in all honesty; every now and then, she would forget, but her sister _was_ only a young. The prospect of higher ranked missions excited and intrigued her — the only reason she didn't ask Neji, who was quite frequently handed A-rank, or higher, missions, was because their relationship wasn't at all strong. Occasionally, they would spar, but they very rarely talked; which was sad, but understandable.

They were far too similar to get along.

Hinata shook her head, smiling slightly, as she reached for the apples — she inspected a couple, searching for bruises, before handing three to the stall owner. He nodded gratefully, placing them in a brown paper bag, and she passed over a few coins, dropping them into his outstretched hand. He passed her the bag, and she bowed her head in thanks, before moving over to the next fruit stall, picking up some oranges.

She continued in that fashion, picking up fruit after fruit — discarding some, such as the bananas and kiwis, as no one really ever ate them — and choosing others, grasping some peaches and a bag of strawberries. The stall owners all nodded their thanks and, in turn, she smiled hers back at them.

Her fingers brushed against a tomato.

For a few seconds, she pictured Sakura, grasping the glass tomato so tightly it hurt, the tears rolling down her face. For a few seconds, she hesitated, simply holding the red fruit in her hand. The owner raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for her to make a move — when Hinata simply stood frozen in place, the old woman sighed, and moved away to a different customer. Briefly, Hinata wondered how the pink-haired kunoichi was doing — and she felt a slight flash of guilt run through her. She _had_ been unnecessarily harsh, when dealing with the other girl, and she regretted it now — she wondered, at all, if it had helped her.

And then, just as quickly, her mind flickered to Naruto.

"…_Naruto…_"

She had last seen him just over a week ago, and, back then, his voice had been filled with sadness, and his eyes had been empty. He had been a wreck. It had shocked and confused her; and, in that brief moment, she had realised just what Sasuke meant to him.

She juggled the tomato in the palm of her hand.

Did she _really_ know how they felt? Oh, of _course_ she could imagine the pain they were going through; but did she _really_ understand? Team 7 had been ripped apart — torn so badly, that no amount of thread could stitch them back together again. They had become strangers, chasing after memories of each other. She was certain that no matter how brilliant her imagination was, she would _never_ understand that.

She tried to picture Shino disappearing — or _Kiba._ She tried to picture going to their training ground, each day, and knowing that one of them would be missing — she tried to picture seeing one without the other. She tried to see herself walking past Ichiraku Ramen, seeing glimpses of a person who had vanished sat on one of the stools — she saw herself walking past the Academy, and all of the memories that would resurface. She would see their families, every single day — she would see things which reminded them of her; maybe a yapping dog, or a buzzing bug.

She _knew_ she would see them in everything around her.

No — no matter how much she tried to picture Shino, or Kiba, disappearing, she just _couldn't. _It was one of those things which she was certain would never happen to her — it was unthinkable. Their relationship was different to the one Team 7 had — there had _always_ been an undertone of static running through them, as though they were walking time bombs. Even Sakura had had something about her — something unpredictable — when she was around Sasuke or Naruto.

_Anything_ could have set any one of them off.

_Naruto _could have been the one who left.

Hinata's fist tightened ever so slightly around the fruit.

The stall owner wandered back over, rubbing her wrinkled hands on her apron. She frowned, before leaning forwards, peering at Hinata. "Listen, Miss; you certainly _do _look as though you've got a lot on your mind but, unless you're going to buy that, I'd really like it if you could just walk on by."

Hinata's eyes widened and she apologised hastily, getting ready to replace the tomato — after all, no one in her household ate the things, and, as far as she knew, she wasn't going to need them for any cooking. But, no matter what her head said, she was doing differently; her hand clutched the tomato tightly, squeezing it too much, so that it began to split. Without really realising it, she raised her other hand, and smiled.

"I'd like a bag of t—tomatoes, please."

The stall owner nodded, her lips splitting into an aged grin. She pulled a paper bag out of her apron and scooped up a few of the tomatoes; within a few seconds, coins and thanks were being exchanged. When Hinata continued down the road, she was stilling holding the tomato — it had split completely, and her hands were sticky.

Without really thinking, she raised the fruit to her lips and took a bite.

"_Yuck_," she mumbled, chewing the tomato slowly — but _still _she took another bite, her face twisting in disgust. When the tomato was gone, she sucked the juice from her fingers, balancing her bags in her other arm.

Her eyes flickered to the paper bag filled with the red fruit.

And she smiled.

**.**

**.**

Sakura brushed her fingers through her hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

The bags under her eyes could be covered up easily with make-up, but at least her cheeks weren't damp with tears. Her skin was still pretty pale, and almost sickly looking, but she hadn't felt the need to eat that much, lately; after her sparring session with Shikamaru, she had looked practically like her old self again, her cheeks flushed with excitement and _life._

But, lately…

She shook her head, willing the negative thoughts to disappear; idly, she realised she hadn't seen much of Naruto, and wondered how he was doing. In those few seconds, she felt selfish — she hadn't once thought of her teammate, and best friend; but, she argued, it wasn't as though _he'd _been banging on _her_ door, was it?

Almost as soon as she thought those words, she felt guilty — no, _he_ was just as hurt as _she _was, if not _more. _Sasuke had always seemed to click with Naruto; whereas, he'd always seen her as a nuisance. An annoyance. Her heart fell at the idea, even now, after all those years; she thought of the moment when they'd met again, briefly, at Orochimaru's hideout, and wondered if he'd seen any change in her — or had she been the same girl she'd always been, frozen in his presence, with both love and fear?

Had he seen anything _else_ in her?

She chuckled slightly, shaking her head again — probably not, actually. Boys were dense; _Naruto _proved that, especially considering how obvious Hinata's adoration for him was. No, boys were completely and utterly _dense_,and Sasuke was no different. No amount of years apart would change that.

There was a knock at her door.

Sakura sighed, gazing at the mirror for a moment longer, before turning and heading out of the bathroom — she walked briskly down the small hallway of her flat, pausing briefly to hang a fallen coat back on the rack, and then swung open the door. She was quite surprised to see Sai stood there, a sketch book tucked under one hand and what looked like a shopping bag clasped in the other. His lips curled into their usual thin grin, and he tilted his head slightly, black hair flopping down across his forehead.

For a few seconds, she closed her eyes, and it was Sasuke stood there.

"Sakura," Sai spoke, and the illusion shattered, "Kakashi said that if I were in the neighbourhood, I ought to check up on you. So, here I am."

Sakura raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the shopping bag and the sketch book — she'd never made any secret of the fact that she adored his drawings, and she knew he was secretly proud of that. He was lying, that was true — but she was glad. Sai had thought of her feelings and actually worried enough about her, to want to check up on her — Kakashi would have worried, yes, but he wouldn't have checked up on her. He was a private enough man to respect the fact that sometimes people just want to be alone.

She'd rather expected to see Naruto stood at her door, with a grin on his face and a shopping bag filled with ramen in his hand.

She sighed — there was that selfishness again.

She stepped to the side, plastering a small smile across her face, and beckoned for him to step inside — he did so, slipping off his shoes and leading her into the kitchen. He'd grown to know her flat a bit better, over the past few months, since joining Team 7; Naruto had only once let him visit his tiny flat, and so Sakura had felt it was her duty to make Sai feel welcome. At first, she'd done it begrudgingly; she hadn't really wanted to socialize with Sai, outside of work, and she'd felt as though he'd begun to realise this.

One day, he brought his sketch book around to show her — and they'd bonded over that. He truly _was_ brilliant; each drawing looked so life-like, it was unbelievable. He'd painted the majority of them in ink — and, throughout the sketch book, she'd spotted people she recognised. There was a painting of Ino, hair down, sprawled across a bed — there was one of Shino, which had obviously been done from memory, due to the few tiny mistakes.

At the very back, Sai had drawn the old photo of Team 7; the one with her, Naruto, Kakashi and _Sasuke_ — the one which sat beside her bed; the one she had prayed to each night, ever since Sasuke left.

She had been struck speechless.

Sai hadn't said anything, either — he'd simply torn it out of the book and taped it to her fridge. He hadn't asked for thanks, even though she had repeatedly thanked him; for a little while, he had seemed utterly confused as to why she was doing such a thing, but he'd gone with it. She wondered if he understood yet.

It was still taped to her fridge.

He was inspecting it, when she entered the kitchen after him; he leaned forwards, hair falling briefly across his face and shielding his expression, before rocking backwards on his heels. He looked relatively satisfied. "It's still in good condition," he murmured, before raising an eyebrow at Sakura. "You look after it well."

"Thank you," she replied.

Sai folded his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter and fixing her with a pointed stare — she didn't know when he'd begun to _understand_ emotions, but he was certainly catching on quickly. She tried to ignore his pale skin — his dark eyes — his black hair — but she couldn't; not completely, at least. He looked at her.

That look was everything Sasuke _wasn't_, but _could_ have been.

He held his gaze for a moment long, before turning, ignoring her thanks, and picking up the shopping bag. He emptied the contents out on her kitchen table, ignoring her splutters of protest; after all, he didn't need to do that for her. She took a step forwards, wanting to help him out — but he looked up and froze her with the stare that was Sasuke, but _wasn't _— and she faltered. She stood in silence, waiting as he set out two plates and some chopsticks, alongside all of the food he'd bought — there was sashimi, wagashi and, her favourite, a few anko dumplings.

In the middle of it all, there was a bowl of tomatoes.

She felt her eyes water, but she rubbed the tears away before they could properly fall — no, she _wasn't_ going to cry. Not after Sai had gone to all of this trouble for her. He sat down, at one side of the table, and gestured for her to sit down opposite him; he'd already placed a stick of dango on her plate.

She sat down and offered him a feeble smile. "It looks… _nice."_

"I wasn't sure what you liked," Sai shrugged, lips curling into his usual smile, "So I bought everything."

Sakura nodded, returning the smile, and picked up the stick of dango — she chewed slowly, trying to avoid the tomatoes. But, every now and then, they would catch her eye, and she would find herself unable to look anywhere else. Sasuke had never told anyone how much he adored the red fruit — but she had spotted him, time and time again, eating them. Naruto had once found out and, upon dragging the Uchiha to Ichiraku Ramen, had bought his friend a plate of them; Sasuke had been embarrassed, yes, but he hadn't shown it.

He'd eaten them, though, and sucked the juice off his fingers.

It was one of the only times Uchiha Sasuke had behaved like a normal teenage, with things they like and dislike — and, sat there with his plate of tomatoes, Sakura had been sure he'd enjoyed the chance.

Pale fingers closed around one of the tomatoes — and Sakura's eyes ran up the long, pale arm, until they met Sai's gaze. His smile was still there, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He placed the tomato against his lips and bit down, slowly — and she watched as he ate it, chewing carefully, as though he were savouring the taste.

When he was finished, he simply stared at her.

They sat in silence, watching each other, waiting for a move to be made — finally, after what seemed to be an age, Sakura reached forwards and plucked a tomato out of the bowl. She ate it within moments, before promptly sticking her tongue out and making a gagging sound.

"These things are _disgusting_," she muttered, reaching automatically for an anko dumpling, in an attempt to get rid of the taste.

Sai chuckled.

That was the closest they came to the topic of Sasuke, for the entire meal — they talked about missions, about Naruto, about training, about his art, about her medic work, and about _everything_ except the one matter that needed to be discussed. She couldn't, and she _wouldn't_ — not with Shikamaru, not with Sai and not with Kakashi. She would, if she ever did, only talk to Naruto, and that would be it.

That would be enough.

She didn't ask Sai to leave, once the meal was over; he helped her clear away the plates and throw away the food. When she picked up the bowl of tomatoes, she was unsure of what to do — part of her wanted to keep them and learn to love them, just like him. But she shook her head, slightly, and practically marched over to the bin — she pressed down on the foot pedal, and the lid sprang upwards.

Then, without a second thought, she threw the tomatoes away.

**.**

**.**

Sakura didn't notice, but Sai smiled — and, this time, it was a _real _smile.

**.**

**.**

Hinata dropped the food supplies back at the Hyuuga household, offering Neji a feeble excuse, before leaving almost straight away. He raised his eyebrows as she left, surprised — after all, she hadn't dumped _all _of the bags down on the kitchen counter, and was still clutching one of the smaller ones to her chest. He wondered, briefly, if she was keeping the food inside as a snack, but discarded the thought straight away — Hinata very rarely snacked and, when she _did_, she wouldn't eat an entire _bag_ of snacks.

No, she was probably going to give the food to someone else.

She walked through Konoha, swinging the bag idly by her side, unsure, at first, of who she was going to visit. She stopped by the Yamanaka flower shop, letting Ino fill her in on the latest gossip before disappearing — after all, none of it was really that interesting, to be honest. She considered going to visit Shino or Kiba, but she was almost certain both of them would be training; and, if there was one thing she _didn't _want to do, it was _train._

For a while, she found herself walking in the direction of Naruto's flat — she hadn't seen him in a while. She wondered how he was feeling; had her pep talk done him any good or had it acted in completely the opposite manner? She found herself feeling too wary to even turn the corner, let alone knock on the door — and so she turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

She let her feet carry her aimlessly for a while, clutching the bag of tomatoes tightly; although she felt as though she was walking anywhere, deep in her heart, she knew where she was going. Eventually, she began to recognise certain places — when the village disappeared, and she was shrouded by leafy foliage, she had an inkling of where she was walking to.

When she spotted Ibiki in the distance, she couldn't deny it any longer — she was off to visit Sasuke; and she'd known she wanted to see him, ever since picking up the first tomato, back at the marketplace.

But she still didn't know _why._

She found herself holding the paper bag far too tightly, as she neared Ibiki — when she was close enough to clearly see his features, she could see that one eyebrow was raised in surprise and amusement. "It's a bit early for you, isn't it, Hinata?" He asked, when she stopped beside him. "What's the big occasion?"

She smiled sheepishly.

"I, well…" She trailed off, before simply shrugging. "I didn't have m—much to do."

Ibiki seemed to notice the bag in her hand, and he reached out, gently taking it from her. It was standard procedure; he searched through the bag, checking for weapons or signs of chakra. Then, as a final precaution, he placed one hand up to his lips and attempted to release a genjutsu — nothing happened. The bag was safe; raising an eyebrow and trying to stop the amusement from showing on his face, he glanced at the contents again.

"…_tomatoes_, Hinata? You never struck me as a tomatoes sort of person," he murmured, "But, I'm sure you _do _get hungry, when visiting the Uchiha."

Her smile grew ever more sheepish.

"They're, uh… they're not for me."

He narrowed his eyes briefly, never letting the smile leave his face. "For Sasuke, huh? Isn't that a bit… _cruel_, Hinata? Especially for _you._"

At his words, she stopped walking. Ibiki continued for a moment, slowing his pace until he finally came to a halt — then, and only then, he turned slightly to face her. Upon seeing her, his lips crinkled into a proper smile; _this_ was how she ought to be. With her legs slightly apart and her fists clenched tightly by her side, _this_ was how Hinata ought to stay. When he saw her like this, he knew she _could_ become a brilliant kunoichi, if only she ditched her insecurity and doubt.

Her eyes met his, and her glare was _chilling._

"They're for _Sasuke_, Ibiki," Hinata spoke, her voice steady and firm. "They're for him to _eat. _He isn't a wild beast — he doesn't _need_ to be chained up! He's not going to attack me; he's far too intelligent for that. He's… he's _my_ age, Ibiki. He's young enough to be your _son_, but he's being changed up like he's a savage _animal. _That's… that's _not_ right. I… _I…"_

She trailed off, as if remembering who she was.

Instantly, she slipped into a bow, her hair falling in front of her face. "I apologise. It w—wasn't my place to say such a thing."

She stayed like that, waiting for his response. He tilted his head, watching her for a moment — he never really understood why Hiashi wasn't proud of the girl. Sure, she wasn't _physically _the strongest; but, mentally, her strength was astounding. He'd heard of her risk — the way she'd thrown herself in front of Pein — and he'd heard of the way Naruto had accidentally rejected her, never taking the time to give her a true answer. She hadn't let that crush her.

If she could be as strong when it came to sparring as she was when it came to love, well… Hinata would be an _incredible_ kunoichi.

He moved towards her, until he was stood directly in front of her — she remained still, bent over in a bow.

"Of course it wasn't your place," Ibiki replied, cheerily, "But if _you _don't say it, who will? _Never_ apologise for your words and opinions, Hinata."

He clapped a hand on her back and she squeaked, straightening immediately.

"You know, I think I _will_ let you feed Sasuke, or whatever it is you want to do," he continued, throwing his arm around Hinata's neck and ruffling her hair slightly — she let out another undignified squeak, "But _only_ because I like you, remember."

She nodded furiously.

Ibiki took one look at her petrified expression and her flushed cheeks, and burst out into rounds of loud laughter — with his arm slung around her neck, he knew Hinata was close to letting out another little mouse squeak; but, within a few moments of him laughing, she too began to chuckle, covering her mouth with one hand, as she did so. The sight just made him laugh harder — even when having fun, she was so _polite._

They walked down the road as _equals_, and Hinata clutched the bag of tomatoes tightly in her hand.

**.**

**.**

"Uchiha Sasuke," Ibiki snapped, rapping briskly on the glass window, "You have a visitor."

It took a moment for his vision to clear — his head _pounded_, and everything outside of the glass was blurred. He felt tired, and his head ached. He tried to discretely shake his head, as though to rid himself of water, but the snort from Ibiki told him that it hadn't been at all that discrete. He squeezed his eyelids shut, counted slowly to ten, and then opened them again.

When Sasuke opened his eyes, the rushing had stopped.

Unsurprisingly, Hinata was stood in front of the glass, clutching something tightly in her hands — he squinted, and then raised an eyebrow. A little brown paper _bag. _He couldn't help but wonder what she was carrying. Ibiki rapped on the window again, and the noise seemed to shoot straight through Sasuke — he muttered a soft curse beneath his breath, before glancing up to meet the older man's gaze.

The bastard seemed _amused._

"You're going to be on your best behaviour, right?" Ibiki taunted, a smirk plastered across his face. "After all, if you screw this up, you won't be treated again. So… be a _good dog_, won't you?"

He moved out of sight before Sasuke could even begin to respond to the insult — one of the ANBU sniggered, rather unprofessionally. He dimly noticed hurt flicker across his visitor's face, before vanishing entirely; but her knuckles whitened, as she clutched the bag of tomatoes. Then she too moved out of sight — and, this time, he began to hear noises, like a key being fitted into a slot. He faintly recognised a surge of chakra, red hot and electric — and, in that brief moment, he realised exactly how much he missed _his _chakra, and the power it had given him.

He would have sighed, but he was far too tired for that.

He tilted his head slightly, frowning as he wondered what was going on — then the door scraped open, and Hinata shuffled into the room. Almost immediately, he noticed the two ANBU members surge forwards; Ibiki, who had just moved back into view, merely shook his head at them, and beckoned for them to leave.

Hinata stood patiently in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, nodding his head slightly, "…what's in the bag?"

She blinked, eyes flickering briefly down towards the paper bag — and then her face crinkled into a wide smile. She reached into the bag, pausing momentarily to select something, and then tugged out a large, ripe tomato. At first, Sasuke's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise and confusion, but then he relaxed, flashing her a sort of lopsided smirk; he'd been expecting _anything_ — flowers, a new vase, just about _anything_ — except for _that. _It was an odd choice in presents, yes, but it seemed normal.

She took a step forwards, before hesitating. "I can't, uh…" Her face seemed to light up bright red, and she bit her lip. "I can't free your h—hands…"

There was a moment of awkwardness.

"…fine," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders as best he could in his position; she smiled again, her cheeks still faintly pink, and stood so close to him that he could see every single little detail — the faint lilac in her eyes, the tiny dimple as she smiled.

It surprised him when she popped the tomato in his open mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, briefly, before biting down on the fruit — almost immediately, there was a spurt of flavour. He ate slowly, savouring the taste; sure, it wasn't as though Ibiki _starved_ him, but he hadn't eaten anything as wonderful as tomatoes in a long time — he couldn't help but feel undoubtedly vulnerable, as though he were showing a weakness. In a way, he was. He'd abandoned his earlier mask of blankness, and he felt as though he was truly _showing _himself.

He was glad the ANBU weren't in the room to see.

Hinata _was, _however, and her eyes were wide, but she was still smiling. She moved the tomato up to his lips again, so that he could eat the other half, and her eyes never left his face. He felt naked, before her; it was almost as though she were seeing something _else_, that he'd tried to hide.

Once he was finished with the tomato, he shook his head, tongue flicking out to catch a bit of juice that had splashed against his cheek — Hinata dropped the paper bag gently onto the ground, and waited patiently.

He realised he wanted to talk.

"How did you _know_?" He asked, before he could stop himself, nodding towards the bag of tomatoes.

Hinata smiled sheepishly. "I, uhm, overheard you and Naruto talking about it, back in our a—academy days; he was teasing you, and I guess I just remembered…"

"Ah."

"You didn't s—spot me."

"No," he agreed, before chuckling softly. "You're quite stealthy."

She laughed as well, nodding slowly. "I s—suppose so; but only really when it came to N—Naruto. I used to follow him around, a lot; he was my i—inspiration, I guess, and I really l—liked him. I used to…"

She trailed off.

Sasuke merely raised an eyebrow.

"I _really_ liked him," Hinata repeated, her eyes meeting his — and he couldn't help but wonder why she was telling him this; back in their academy days, Sasuke had, for lack of better words, barely known Hinata had existed. He'd tended to stay away from all of the girls; no matter how quiet they were, he had avoided them all, just due to the fact that it had been easier for him like that.

He wondered if he should have spoken to her, back then.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, finding the silence vaguely uncomfortable — he was unsure of what to say, especially when it came to romance and _Naruto_. In his mind, the two could never click. In his mind, the conversation was _normal_, but scary, all at the same time, and he had no idea what to say.

"Did you…" He trailed off. "Did you ever… tell him?"

_There. _

That sounded appropriate.

"Yes," Hinata answered, with what seemed to be a slightly bitter smile. "I told him, and he never answered. I think… I think he f—f—_forgot. _We arranged to go on a d—date, _sure_, but _I _had to remind him, and… _and…_"

Sasuke frowned slightly.

She let out a laugh. "This is _silly_," she chuckled, her face splitting into a grin — he let out a soft sigh of relief. "You're_ Uchiha Sasuke. _I bet this all sounds so s—silly to you."

He shrugged.

"It sounds _normal,_ actually."

They didn't speak again, not for the rest of her visit — she stood opposite him, not quite looking at him, and he stared past her. Each of them were immersed in their own thoughts; her of her confession to Naruto, and him of Sakura's last remark, before he'd left. He wondered, briefly, if he'd been like how Naruto was being — if he'd dismissed her, and forgotten her, and if she'd thought he'd thought she was being silly. He wondered, and he reminisced, and a small part of him wanted to go back and change it all.

A small part of him wanted to go _back _— wanted to turn around and acknowledge the quiet girl, who always followed Naruto, back in their academy days.

When Hinata left, she didn't take the bag of tomatoes.

It lay forgotten on the floor, contents spilling out for all to see; and, as Sasuke stared at each round, red fruit, he wondered whether going back would have really changed anything. As far as he could see, it was inevitable — he would have still hated Itachi, and he would have still misunderstood, and he probably still would have ended up in the same position as he was now.

He chuckled.

What was the point of regretting?

The thing was, he _couldn't_ go back — and he would learn to accept that.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	13. day 13

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **to skinny hippo, who's review made me squeal a little bit — also to sepsis, who never fails to leave a lovely review, and imcutepoison, as well as everyone else who has reviewed.

**chapter: **13/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**: **

i've completed nanowrimo! 5o,ooo words in 18 days. obviously, i am feeling pleased with myself right now, haha. anyway, i hope you enjoy the new chapter.

(sorry for skipping all of hinata's day. i wanted to spend a bit more time on her and sasuke.)

review, please!

:)

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Anko slipped a kunai into her hand, palms sweaty as she gazed out from her hiding place, perched high above the ground, hidden by the leaves of the trees. She stayed still, freezing almost completely in place, eyes fixed on a cave below her. It was the type of area bears would usually live in, what with the running water nearby and the like — but, at that moment, it was extraordinarily quiet.

Scarily so.

She had been on her way back from a mission when she had spotted the cloaked figure, standing in the shadow of the trees, almost out of sight — he had seemed to be staring at her, turned in her direction; and when she spotted him, he slipped back into the shadows, disappearing entirely. Almost immediately, she'd sprung towards him, racing after him; because she recognised his chakra signature. She'd felt it before, time and time again, when she was much younger — back then, it had been fierce and raging; but now it seemed to have dulled down a bit, and it was tainted.

She'd followed the figure easily, jumping from tree to tree, moving as quickly as she could; even so, the man had remained just out of sight, and she'd felt a sinking feeling in her gut. The figure had disappeared just as they'd come to a clearing — and the only place for him to have vanished into was the cave down below. She shifted slightly in her seat, peering into the entrance, scanning for any sign of movement; she tilted her head slightly, listening for any sounds.

All Anko heard was the steady dripping of water dropping from the ceiling of the cave, splashing down onto the rocks below. The sun didn't quite reach the cave; rather, its light spilled just outside of the entrance, and the rest of the cave was shrouded in darkness, shadows seeming to dance and dart in the blackness. Then, ever so slowly, the figure stepped forward, emerging from the mouth of the cave, his hood pulled up over his head. He glanced left, ever so slowly, and then right; the forest around him was silent, and Anko cringed backwards in an attempt to conceal herself a bit more, leaves rustling slightly in the breeze. Up ahead, a bird took off into the sky, wings flapping frantically as though rushing to escape the seemingly calm area — other than that, there was no movement.

He pulled back his hood, closing his eyes, and a smirk flickered across his face.

It was Kabuto — except, it _wasn't _Kabuto. It looked like him, yes, but there were slight differences; his hair was shorter, and it fell in ragged locks down to his shoulders. His skin was paler, much paler than it had ever been before, and he was hunched over — his usual air of confidence, of arrogance, had vanished; he seemed colder, frigid, and the smirk plastered across his face wasn't his. It was an expression of contempt for the world and everything in it; and his eyes flickered across to Anko's hiding place, and that was when she _did_ gasp, unable to stifle the noise at all, slipping a kunai instinctively into her sweaty hands as she gazed down at the figure.

Those eyes _definitely_ weren't Kabuto's.

They were too thin, too narrow, and too bright — they were amber; the colour of sickly sweet honey, deceptively pretty, with thin slits for pupils. They took her back, forced her to look back at memories she'd rather not look at, and she cringed backwards, cursing her cowardice — she _hated_ those eyes, yes, but oh, how she was _scared_ of them.

His smirk curved into a long, wide smile — but then there was a rustling coming from the left, and he turned his head, the tail of a snake flicking out from beneath his cloak. Anko's gaze switched to the movement, and her eyebrows shot upwards and she realised, in that moment, that she was in deep trouble. Because, from out of the bushes stepped a second cloaked figure, in an orange mask, a single eye peering out from a single peep hole; there was a moment in which chakra seemed to flare, dangerous and electric, and she found herself frozen; and then Kabuto spoke, finally.

"Tobi," he called, glasses glinting in the sunlight, "Or should I call you _Madara? _How nice to finally meet you. Your reputation precedes you."

Madara's posture was relaxed, but the air about him was static, tense — he was expecting a trap, no doubt about it; but he nodded nonetheless, gesturing airily with one gloved hand, "Undoubtedly it does. What I want to know right now, however, is the reason why you're following me — and the reason why you've been leading an enemy shinobi to my doorstep. It had better be a _good_ reason, if you value your life."

Anko froze.

He _knew_ about _her. _

She had to get away — she _had_ to — but almost as soon as she attempted to, the branches around her seemed to slip and slide, and she wondered exactly how long she'd been caught in a genjutsu for. Her hands flew together, as she released the illusion, and she tried to move away — but the snakes wrapped around her ankles and wrists, binding her effectively together, making movement difficult — and she realised that she hadn't been stood in a tree at all. No, all along she had been stood behind them, only a few steps away from Kabuto — if she'd just _thought_.

No, 'if's were useless at that moment. She stayed still, watching through narrowed eyes, waiting for something to happen — waiting for _anything_ to happen.

Kabuto chuckled, gesturing back at her, "Consider her a _gift_, if you will — because I have something to offer you, and I need to know that you're willing to accept me; not _trust_ me. I wouldn't ask so much — and besides, if I asked for such a thing and you complied, I'd know you were _lying. _No, I merely ask for your acceptance. After all, I do have a _wonderful_ offer — you'll find it _very… _pleasing."

Madara's gaze flickered from Anko to Kabuto, and he nodded stiffly. Almost as soon as he did so, however, he darted forwards, sharingan spinning; in return, Kabuto shot backwards, clapping his hands together, eyes widening behind his glasses as he jumped past Anko. She shivered involuntarily — yes, those were definitely Orochimaru's eyes — wild and insane and _crazy. _She didn't particularly recognise the jutsu, but judging from the widening of Madara's visible eye, and the horrible, self-satisfied smirk plastered across Kabuto's face, the jutsu was no doubt something _bad. _

Five wooden coffins jutted out of the ground, dust picking up and swirling around them — Madara slid to a halt, his voice laced with something like awe as he murmured the words, "Edo Tensei… how _horrid_ of you, Kabuto."

"You've heard of it, then?" Kabuto pushed his glasses up his nose, the smirk remaining, his voice filled with pride. "The Edo Tensei — also known as the Impure World Resurrection. Only Orochimaru and the Nidaime Hokage could ever truly master this jutsu; but now I too have the power, and I suppose you could say I've _surpassed_ them both. This is a special performance, just for _you_, Madara — perhaps now you'll see my true strength, and you won't take me so lightly. Perhaps now you'll have an inkling of my offer, too."

The other shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid you've lost me; you really ought to spell this out to me, nice and _slow_, Kabuto," at this, his voice became dangerous, "What exactly _are_ you offering?"

"I was certain I was being _obvious_," Kabuto murmured, his voice taking a dangerous mocking tone — the sort of tone which would _usually_ get a shinobi killed, especially when taken against Madara, "Perhaps seeing is believing, then…"

The lids of the wooden coffins fell away.

One by one, the contents were unveiled; the corpse of Uchiha Itachi slumped forwards, hair falling across its face, skin dry and cracked — Anko recoiled as best she could in her position, as the smell of death and decay filled the clearing. Her eyes were torn across to the next in line; a redheaded shinobi — no, the _corpse_ of a redheaded shinobi — with ragged hair, its skin peeling away from its face; she recognised it, only vaguely, and the name came to her after a moment of thought.

_Sasori — _the S-rank criminal Haruno Sakura managed to kill.

In the coffin beside that stood a blonde figure, its hair pulled up into a high ponytail — cracks littered the face of this corpse, as though it had taken years for it to piece itself back together again; it was almost as though it had been blown _apart_, before death. The cracks — the _scars_ — were thin and cruel; and the shinobi, no matter how much of a criminal he had been, had never deserved to die in such a way.

The body of Kakuzu was slumped next to the blonde shinobi, leaning against the edge of the coffin for support — its eyes were blank, but wide open; and Anko recognised it from the mortuary, where plenty of Konoha shinobi had spent days dissecting it, attempting to _understand_ it. She herself had come down to take a look at the shinobi who stole hearts — and, back then, his eyes had been bright, shining like emeralds.

Now, they were dull.

She shuddered, and she didn't want to look on anymore, but she couldn't help herself — unwillingly, she found herself gazing at the next in line; a thin, sickly-looking corpse, with ash-white hair — and she wondered what on earth Madara would want with this one. It looked to be no older than a boy; and it seemed so fragile, so delicate — it didn't look cut out to be a shinobi, let alone a deadly S-ranked _weapon. _

Kabuto clapped his hands together.

Madara rubbed one gloved finger across his chin, surveying the five fallen shinobi one by one, like pieces of meat, before glancing back up at Kabuto, "…I suppose you've no doubt come to join me, then, if you're willing to… _show off_ this amount of power. You do realise I could kill you right now, should I choose to?"

"Oh no — I haven't come to _join_ you."

Anko's eyes widened.

Kabuto chuckled, shaking his head, arrogance dripping from him. "No, I simply heard you planned on starting a war, and decided I'd offer my support. Of course, like the good, untrustworthy villain I am, there _has_ to be a catch — and here's my catch. Are you willing to consider it, Madara?"

The other nodded.

"Oh, _excellent_," Kabuto's lips stretched into a smile. "When this war is over — when you have got what you want and everything is going perfectly _your_ way — I request only one thing. Hand over Uchiha _Sasuke."_

Madara's eyes narrowed with distrust. "…what're you plotting?"

"Oh, nothing at _all_," the other replied, still smiling, "I simply wish to discover the truth behind all ninjutsu — and, for that, I need a live, young _Uchiha… _I suppose you could say I've inherited Orochimaru's sense of _curiosity, _as well as all of his powers."

"…and if I refuse?"

At this, Kabuto's eyes narrowed and his smile slipped from his face. Quick as a flash, he smacked his hands together, and a final coffin rose from the ground, turned away from Anko — the lid fell downwards, and Madara recoiled, murmuring something beneath his breath, his eyes wide with shock. She craned her neck, trying to get a peek of this thing — this awful, terrible _thing_ — which scared Madara so; but the lid slid back into place before she could do so and, when she looked up, she spotted Kabuto gazing at her.

He waggled a finger knowingly.

"You thought I wouldn't come here without an ace up my sleeve, Madara? How ridiculously _naive. _Now that you've seen this, you _know_ you can't refuse — and let's not ask any needless questions. Don't you worry — I won't tell _anyone_ about this…"

Madara frowned, taking a moment to consider. His eyes never left the final coffin, though he did pause once to take a quick glance at Anko — and she cringed backwards, avoiding his gaze, trying not to let the urge to scream overcome her. This was _dangerous. _This was definitely _dangerous_, and she was definitely going to _die_ — they would question her, no doubt, and then kill her, because she was disposable at this moment in time. Still, her gaze flickered across to Kabuto, who looked awfully self-satisfied and smug, and she found hatred overcoming her.

That _wasn't_ Kabuto.

It looked like him, yes — but it was Orochimaru, in everything but body. The master she hated — she _loathed_ — was there, just out of reach; and she'd waited for this moment for so _long_. Of course, when she'd pictured it, she'd seen it going differently; still, she had never once seen herself as the victor. Never _once… _

"…cheeky _brat_," Madara murmured, finally, before letting out a resigned sigh. "All right — I'll join forces with you."

And, at that moment, Anko realised that a war was coming.

…it was too bad she'd be _dead_ before she could tell anyone.

**.**

**.**

The glass wall between them was back up.

In all fairness, it wasn't exactly a _wall_ — perhaps more of a window — and it had never been taken down; but when Hinata went to visit Sasuke for the thirteenth time, she wasn't allowed to go inside and visit him, again, as she'd done the day before. Ibiki refused, when she asked, saying that she now needed permission off the Hokage, otherwise he wasn't going to do anything about it at all — and so she had simply nodded and headed off to see Sasuke; because, in all fairness, it wasn't much of a loss.

She could still _see_ him, at least.

When she entered the room, she was surprised to see the two ANBU huddled up together in one corner, whispering — Sasuke was watching on, his face a mixture of curiosity and amusement; and all three of them looked up in surprise when she cleared her throat, announcing her presence. The ANBU didn't bother remaining in the room — instead, almost immediately, they left, still murmuring beneath their breath to one another, and she caught her name being spoken, as well as the name of her father. She frowned, shaking her head, before sitting down in her usual chair.

"Good afternoon, Sasuke," Hinata said, and he simply nodded in response, his gaze still fixed on the door almost as if he could see _through_ it and was watching the two ANBU outside. She turned, then, to take a quick glance at the door. "What were they t—talking about?"

"…I'm not sure," the Uchiha said, finally, still watching the door. "They suddenly stood up and started whispering. They weren't that quiet at first, in all honesty, as if they thought the glass somehow shielded them from me — and they were quite blatantly talking about me. When they noticed me watching, however, they suddenly started acting secretive."

She glanced back at him.

He shrugged. "Whatever they were saying, nothing _good _will come of it."

"_Don't_," Hinata said, and he blinked, raising an eyebrow at her, looking at her properly for the first time since she'd arrived. "Don't worry yourself about i—it; and, worst of all, don't _j—jinx_ it."

Sasuke's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing, his head swivelling back to face her but his eyes occasionally flickering back to the doorway. Hinata found herself gazing around the room, and it was all so _empty_ — she really ought to buy a new vase and some flowers. Back then, they'd made the entire room seem bright — they'd made everything less scary; made Sasuke less jittery. She pressed her fingers against her lips, eyes still scanning the room for anything, and she found herself staring at his bonds.

Surely they were too much?

He was trussed up, tied up, like an _animal _— like they thought he'd bite, if they let him even have any freedom of movement; and she couldn't help but think that he _must_ want to walk again. To stretch his legs, if only for a minute. She frowned, ever so slightly, but he noticed it anyway, eyebrows raising again.

"…what?"

She blinked, startled. "Uhm, I don't know—"

"—what are you looking at?"

Hinata blinked again, before biting her lip and looking away. "I was just thinking… It's awfully c—cruel, the way they tie you up like that — _and_ they d—drain your chakra! Surely, you should be allowed to walk around, if only for a l—little while. I mean, you wouldn't _hurt_ anybody."

"That's a large assumption to make."

Her eyes widened, and instantly she glanced upwards, her gaze meeting his. His face was deadly serious, one eyebrow quirked ever so slightly, that same old Sasuke smirk plastered across his face.

"Why _wouldn't_ I hurt anybody, if it gave me the opportunity to leave?"

"Because you're not _like_ that," Hinata retorted, almost immediately. "You _pretend_ to be like that, but you're _n—not."_

This time, both of his eyebrows shot upwards, and his smirk turned amused, almost mocking. "And you've seen what I'm really like, right, Hinata? Is that it? You've seen the true Sasuke and you _know_ I'm not like that?"

For a moment, Hinata had to consider his words. She gazed at his features, searching for that little something — the little something she'd seen time and time again, whenever she visited him — the something that reached out for her, desperately. She searched for the part of Sasuke that was so _vulnerable_ — the part which wanted to pull everyone close, but only knew how to push them away. She searched for the part which reacted to Naruto's name — and his eyes would turn sad, even if his face didn't — and she searched for the part which steered the conversation away from his family, for fear of showing any signs of weakness. And she searched for the part which she'd spoken to, more than once.

She searched for the part she visited.

And as she searched, she thought that Sasuke was much like a rose. He tried to stand tall and proud and _beautiful_, but when the rain came out, he would wilt and wither. And she wondered if she was his rain — because she constantly put him on the defensive, she could see that; she could see that in the way he constantly tried to hide things from her.

Sasuke was the rose.

And she was his rain.

And, almost as soon as she thought those words, she saw that part — that vulnerable part of him — staring out at her through his eyes, and she knew her answer to his question. Had she seen what he was really like, then — could she really judge him, after only speaking to him for thirteen days?

"_Yes._"

He blinked, eyebrows rising, slightly taken back by her firm answer — her fists were clenched by her side and her expression was one of stubbornness and determination. He smiled, ever so slightly, before closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"…you'll learn," Sasuke murmured, finally, eyes still closed, "I suppose."

She didn't reply, choosing instead to clasp her hands in her lap and simply look at him; eventually, he opened his eyes, and they sat in silence, waiting for something to happen. Hinata opened her mouth, just once, trying for words — trying, really, to speak of _anything_ — but she couldn't quite think of something, and so she simply sat there.

Eventually, Sasuke spoke.

"I didn't always hate my brother," he murmured, his voice hesitant as if he were trying to pick the right words; and he'd closed his eyes again, so that it was more as though he were talking to himself than her. "Before I thought — before he killed my family — my entire _clan_ — we were close. We did everything that siblings _should_ do; he'd play with me, and give me piggy back rides, and train with me — and then, in the same manner, he'd teach me things. He was the one who taught me how to set up a camp, how to start a fire without using a jutsu; how to catch fish from a river and how to generally survive.

He was the kindest — the nicest — the strongest — the _best_ person I knew.

I started to idolise him. I was pretty young, and kids _do _stuff like that; so I started to think of him as something _more. _He wasn't just my brother; he was my teacher, my father, my friend — he became, for lack of better words, my _everything. _He couldn't do anything wrong, not in my eyes; and I think my mother realised how close we were becoming, because she started to refer to us as 'her little boys' — and she never once used to call Itachi little. I think he liked it, even though he pretended he didn't — but she started referring to us as a _whole_, instead of two separate people. We were close.

We were _so_ close.

I guess, through it all, I never really, truly, _absolutely_ hated Itachi; that's why, whenever we fought, after he… killed them all, he always told me I needed my hatred to become stronger. It wasn't really hatred, not back then — it took a while for it to boil and fester and become something _resembling_ that.

Back then, it was simple disappointment. I wanted to know _why _— why he'd killed them, and the like. I _had_ to know. I didn't want to kill him, not really; hurt him, yes. _Break_ him, definitely. But I didn't want to _kill_ him — because then I'd be alone, and lonely, and it would hurt even more. I'm probably not making sense, but I need _someone_ to understand…"

He trailed off, eyes flickering open to meet Hinata's — and she found herself slightly surprised. He had never given anything away, not like this; not without her prompting him first. It used to be a sharing thing — she'd say something and then he'd say something, in response. But perhaps — perhaps after her earlier statement, he _was _sharing.

Maybe he wanted to prove her _right._

…or prove her _wrong._

She opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head, cutting her off before she even had the chance. "Don't say you understand — don't waste words like that, because you _don't_, and you _won't."_

And Hinata found herself remembering Naruto.

(_how? how can _you_ understand? what have you been through, which is even remotely like this? sasuke wasn't just my best friend. he was — he _is_ — my brother! and they've locked him up in some dirty prison, and thrown away the key — they've condemned him to _death_, hinata! he's going to be rotting in some prison and he'll think i've forgotten about him! i won't see him again until he's in a _coffin_. _you_ barely know sasuke. how can _you_ understand?_

_you _don't _understand!)_

And she opened her mouth, before she could stop herself, to speak the same words that she'd spoken to her childhood love to _him_ — to Sasuke.

"Then make me, S—Sasuke — make me _understand."_

**.**

**.**

He wanted to.

Looking down at her, and seeing the way she clenched her fists, eyes determined but begging for him to at least _try_, Sasuke truly _wanted_ to. He wanted to spill his guts — to tell her everything — to tell her the truth about Itachi, and about Konoha, and explain his hatred further. And he wanted to tell her, yes; but his thoughts returned to the ANBU stood waiting outside the room, and he couldn't help but wonder how the outside world would take it.

After all, Danzo was still alive.

They were _all_ still alive.

He could tell Hinata what he wanted, but she was too kind — she wouldn't shut her mouth about it. She'd want to tell anyone — she'd want to tell people; just the same way Naruto would have wanted to; because, in her pretty little mind, that would _free_ him. That would turn him into one of the good guys, again — and who knew what would actually happen? She'd have no proof, to begin with — her words would just be considered to be the rambled words, stolen from the mouth of a traitor. She would be mocked. Her father, no doubt, would look down at her with disappointment, and _everyone_ — friends, family, fellow shinobi — would turn away.

After all, she'd be making some _grand_ accusations, with very little proof — no, scratch that; with _no _proof. It wasn't worth it — it wasn't worth spoiling _everything_, just to get someone to understand, just for a little while, because it would make him feel better. He shook his head, ignoring her crestfallen expression, shrugging slightly.

"The truth isn't worth it, Hinata."

**.**

**.**

Hatake Kakashi tucked his hands into his pockets, sadly missing the presence of his little orange book as he strolled through the streets of Konoha. The Hokage had requested to see him and, as usual, he'd decided it was in his best interests to turn up extremely late — and, besides, he had people he needed to check up on.

He turned a corner, and his heart fell; he recognised the flat in front of him, and it brought back memories — memories of a dead man. A fallen shinobi. He stopped where he stood, idly gazing up at the flat; there, on the doormat, was a pack of cigarettes — Shikamaru had probably left them there, as a sort of token of his appreciation and gratitude to his fallen sensei, as well as a memorial. In much the same way mourners would usually leave flowers on the graves of the dead, Shikamaru left cigarettes.

It was oddly poetic.

Kakashi chuckled lowly under his breath, moving to turn away, and almost bumped into the one person he had wanted to check up on. She was stood slightly behind him, unmoving, eyes fixed on the flat, one hand resting on the bump of her stomach — her hair fell down around her face, and tears threatened to spill out from her eyes.

"…I can't go in there," Kurenai murmured, softly, still rubbing the bump of her stomach. "I've tried, I really have — but I just _can't._"

Kakashi didn't reply.

"Shikamaru's been an angel," the kunoichi continued, and her voice was broken and tired. "He visits me. Did you know that? Apparently, he made him the godfather — I didn't know that, of course, but its fine. It was going to be _you_, originally. I suppose he always used to get caught up in the emotions — and it must have seemed like the right thing to say. It's fine, though; Shikamaru's a wonderful man — a _brilliant_ shinobi."

"He is," Kakashi agreed, nodding slightly.

"I still thought it was going to be _you_, though," Kurenai said, acting as though Kakashi hadn't said a word. "I suppose you weren't there, though — so… so it couldn't have been you."

And _there._

She had spoken the words Kakashi constantly repeated, time and time and time again. Because person after person, he'd lost, because he simply hadn't been _there_ — first with Obito, though that didn't truly count; he hadn't been skilled enough, back then; so, in a way, he hadn't been truly there. And not for Rin — he didn't even know where she was any more. And then Itachi; because he'd been close to the other's age, and he'd _seen_ how skilled he was getting, but he hadn't been there to stop him. And then the same with Sasuke — he was his _teacher_, but he hadn't been there.

Not for Sakura.

Nor Naruto.

Not even, really — though he _was_ trying, at least — for Kurenai.

He wished, in that moment, that he had his books with him; because then, at least, he'd be able to distract himself from the truth. He turned back around, facing away from her, gazing up at the flat — and then he tucked his hands back into his pockets, and turned to face her.

Her eyes were still glued to the flat.

He stepped forwards, then, and placed a hand on her shoulder — but she still showed no signs of movement. For a second, he found himself thinking of them — of the three of them — when they'd occasionally go and get ramen together; and Asuma, as usual, would always be the life and laughter of the party. He remembered the way her face would light up, just for a moment, and he smiled behind his mask. She'd remember, too, eventually — she'd get past this stage of mourning, of sadness, of _darkness._

He'd done it time and time again.

Then, without saying a word, Kakashi turned and left.

And Kurenai stayed where she was, gazing up at the flat, until the rain began to pitter patter down around her, and her hair became soaked to her skin. Only then did her thoughts turn to her baby — _their_ child — and she turned away, walking slowly back to her flat.

Only once did his name ghost her lips.

"_Asuma…"_

**.**

**.**

When Hinata left Sasuke, it was raining.

She stood where she was, for a moment, in the rain, fists clenched by her side; and the rain soaked her clothes through, and she grew colder and colder. But she tilted her head up to the sky, and she wondered, as she watched the grey clouds roll in. Perhaps Sasuke _wasn't_ the rose — perhaps _she_ was the rose, delicate and fragile, wanting nothing more than his care; wanting him to finally give in, to her, and let her understand. And perhaps he was the rain.

Because, no matter how much she tried, he simply smiled his sad little smile; and she wondered if he was crying — if he was crying, but she just couldn't see it, because he wouldn't _let_ her see it.

Perhaps she was the rose.

And Sasuke was the rain.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	14. day 14

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **to one heartbeat & the anonymous reviewer "usagi" — your reviews made me squeal a little bit; to hinata6, who left, possibly, one of the greatest reviews i've ever had; and to "progressreport", who just made me giddy with happiness.

**chapter: **14/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**: **

thank you everyone; i get some of the most supportive reviews for this story, and so i just wanted to thank you all. i like to think you'll all stick by me, follow me through these fifty days — see hinata and sasuke grow, but also see _me_ grow and hopefully improve. but still; i know i don't update as frequently as i should, and i'll aim to improve that in the next year. this'll probably be my last 2010 chapter, but i'm glad you've stuck with me, though, and hopefully you'll stick with me to the very end.

this'll be _our_ journey — our journey, with hinata and sasuke, way into 2011.

:)

as you can probably tell by now, i get gushy _very _easily. ;D

anyway!

this is more related to the actual fanfic, now; while i am _sort_ of following the manga, i've mixed up a few of the events. originally, itachi's death happens relatively early on, compared to sasuke joining the akatsuki and so on; in this fanfic, itachi's death takes place at around the same time as pein's invasion of konoha — this is mainly so that sasuke _can_ join the akatsuki.

and, finally, one last little thing; some time soon, i'd like to start another sasuhina fanfic, in an AU setting. would you read it? just tell me in your review, and i think i'll start thinking up some ideas; within the next few weeks, i'll put them up in a poll, for you to tell me which idea you like the most! thanks for your help! :D

and yeah. that's about it. sorry for the long author's note.

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata was woken up, that morning, by a steady tapping sound.

Sitting up in her bed, she pushed the blankets aside, pausing only to glance momentarily at the clock on her bedside table — just passed five 'o' clock, it read, and her eyes widened ever so slightly. It was early; and she wouldn't have thought a second thing about it, had she not been quite certain that she'd booked a few days off that week, for resting time. In reality, she'd booked time off to spar with Neji, who wished to do an extra bout of training before he went on his A-rank mission; Kakashi had informed him of it the day before, and said they were to leave in a few days. He hadn't told Neji what they would be doing — not that Neji would tell Hinata, if he had — and the older Hyuuga wished to get in a little bit of early practise.

Still, that didn't explain why she was being woken up so early, by a stone being steadily thrown against her window. Just pebbles, she judged, otherwise she would have heard a crack by now. She assumed it was Kiba throwing them — it seemed like the sort of thing he would do — and stepped over to the window, peering out into the darkness.

A shadowy figure stood just outside the Hyuuga grounds. He was shorter than Kiba, but only slightly so — and so, intrigued, Hinata activated her byakugan. Almost immediately, she found herself gazing at the swirling, intense, _fiery_ chakra of Uzumaki Naruto, and her heart skipped a beat. She pushed open the window, resting her hands on the ledges as she leant out of it, byakugan disappearing, narrowing her eyes slightly in an attempt to see him better.

"…Naruto…?" She called, her voice hushed but still as loud as she could possibly make it, without alerting her father or Neji, or anyone else.

"Yeah," the figure called back, and she saw his teeth flash in the darkness — he was grinning that same grin that made her heart ache and her legs wobble. "Would you mind hopping down here a second, Hinata? I've got something to show you."

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she nodded once, before ducking back inside her room; she crossed the room as quickly and quietly as possible, opening the wardrobe door and searching absently for her jacket. Her thoughts were still on Naruto, because what could he _possibly_ want? She pulled the jacket idly over her pyjama top, switched her bottoms for her casual mid-length trousers, and then brushed her fingers through her hair until it lay flat on her head. She glanced briefly at the mirror, winced — her eyes were startled, but tired; her skin seemed sallow; her hair was still quite knotty —, before spraying a small amount of perfume onto her neck and wrists, in an attempt to hide her just-got-out-of-bed smell. She didn't have the time to get entirely dressed; no, in reality, she could have done what she wanted, and Naruto would have stayed patient.

But there would have been the risk of getting caught and, besides, she didn't want to keep him waiting anyway — she was far too nice for that. She crossed the room again, now fully prepared, slid upon her window as far as it would go, and then stepped gingerly out onto the small bit of guttering below. She tugged the window smoothly back into place, shifting tentatively as she did so, and then jumped off the ledge. She landed with a slightly stumble, but nothing serious, and then made her way towards the gate, separating Naruto from her.

When she reached the gate, he was already stood there, hands looped casually through; she could see his features clearly now, and his eyes were tired, his hair ruffled and messy — he'd only gotten out of bed recently, too, she judged, and she offered him a tiny smile. He grinned in return. "You look tired," she spoke, finally, unsure of what else to say. "You should b—be in bed."

"Probably," he agreed, flapping a hand at her, grin still in place, "But then it would have been too late for me to show you anything. Mind unlocking this gate and stepping outside?"

Hinata blinked, before nodding, glancing briefly around her; and then she let her chakra surge down to her hand, much in the same way she would do for her Jyuuken. She tapped her fingers briefly against the area the lock would be positioned, waited a moment, and then pushed her palm against it — chakra surged through the gate, like a ripple of water, covering the entire thing. There was a click, and the gate unlocked, swinging slightly towards her; she smiled slightly, slipping between the open gate, before tugging it back into position. There was a second click. The gate locked again.

Up ahead, she noticed a curtain twitch — _Hanabi_ — and then there was nothing but stillness.

Naruto's grin only widened. "Hey, _that_ was pretty cool."

"I… I suppose," she nodded, bashful, feeling awkward and uncertain — and Naruto's fingers circled around her wrist, gripping gently, and he offered her another smile, this one smaller, kinder, _gentler. _

"As much as I'd love to just stand around and talk," Naruto spoke, his voice casual, his eyes never leaving hers — and she remembered that they were brighter than she'd thought they were, even when he was tired; his eyes were _bright_, "I've got something to show you. I can assure you, Hinata, it's worth your time."

She let him pull her along, then, and only just managed to keep up with his frenzied, frantic pace, brow furrowing as she tried to think of what could be important enough for him to wake her up. They weren't heading in the direction of the Hokage's office — in fact, they were rushing the opposite way, and Naruto didn't appear to have any of his ninja gear on him; no kunai, no tag bombs, no _nothing. _He'd… just wanted to see her?

It didn't quite add up in her head.

She wondered if she was being overly suspicious, and then decided it would be best not to think about it; instead, she let him drag her along at that quick speed, only growing more confused as they passed Shikamaru's house. Behind the Nara residence, there was quite a large hill, and she wondered if Naruto was going to take her all the way to the top — a gust of wind made her hair billow about her face, and she frowned ever so slightly. It was getting colder.

"Are we… are we almost there, N—Naruto?" Hinata asked, finally, and he nodded once, before beginning to climb the hill, still dragging her along behind him — she sighed softly, just quiet enough so that he couldn't head; if there was thing she definitely _hadn't_ planned on doing that morning, it was climbing a hill.

And, yet, there she was, _climbing a hill._

It didn't take them long to reach the top, and it was only then that Naruto let go of her hand — and it was at that point, absently, that she realised she hadn't fainted at all, and that there was only the faintest of blushes colouring her cheeks. Almost as soon as she realised that, her face turned tomato red, and she clasped her hands in front of her, biting her lip. Directly ahead of her, Naruto was peering back down the hill, as if waiting for something; the wind began to pick up, and he grinned, beckoning for Hinata to step forwards.

"Hey, quick — come and look!"

She moved forwards, brow furrowing ever so slightly, as she gazed down the hill; there was nothing really that impressive, as far as she could see — only dandelions, spread across the hill so thickly that it seemed as though there was a sea of green and white. She bit her lip, opening her mouth to talk, but Naruto shushed her, pointing out at the dandelions. "Just wait, 'kay? It's really cool, I promise."

She snuck a sideways glance at the blonde; his eyes lit up, as blue as a summer sky, and so bright, so _happy. _He was using that look Akamaru sometimes used — eager to please, like a puppy — and the thought made her giggle softly, covering her mouth with her hand. She nodded once, and Naruto pumped his fist into the air.

And the wind picked up.

"It's starting!"

At that, Hinata stilled, watching with wide eyes as the dandelions all began to lean to the left, as if being tugged by tiny, invisible hands. One by one, they began to break free, the wind snatching them from their places; they danced in the air — and there were so many of them! For a few moments, it was almost as if the blue of the sky had been blocked out; these dancing, twirling, swirling dandelions filled the air, spiralling in the wind, and Hinata pressed a hand against her mouth.

It was quite beautiful — quite _amazing_, really, watching as each and every dandelion seemed to be set free. It was so pretty, purely because it was so simple — and gorgeously so. Distantly, she found herself turning to Naruto, a smile flashing across her lips; he returned that smile, grinning his signature grin, and then took one of her hands in his. It was nothing big.

It was so _simple._

Hinata wondered, possibly, if this was what it was like to truly fall in love — to catapult head over her heels for a blonde bombshell, and wonder whether there was any return. As the dandelions swirled and twirled around them, she wondered if it was _him_ making her heart thump too fast, making her feel giddy with excitement and…

And—

—and suddenly her thoughts were filled with black eyes and black hair and pale, pale, _pale_ skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to will herself back into the moment — trying her hardest to feel that same giddy sensation; and she didn't notice Naruto's brow furrow, his hand moving away from hers. "Hey, Hinata… are you alright?"

She nodded once, jerkily, opening her eyes at the sound of his voice. His gaze was troubled — those confused blue eyes — and he was leaning forwards ever so slightly, peering straight into her face, too close, _too close_. With a soft gasp, she felt her cheeks turn beetroot red, and her heart hammer impossibly fast, and she took a step backwards, nodding again. "I'm… I'm fine, Naruto. I, uh… That was really b—beautiful."

"I guess," Naruto agreed, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck as he grinned sheepishly at her. "I mean, when I was up here with Shikamaru and Sakura, I saw it, and I sort of thought… it was _nice_. I'm sorry, Hinata — I'm sorry for forgetting about our date, and for ignoring your confession, and for… I guess I'm sorry for not doing what I should have done. I just — I guess it was just too much. I wanted to apologise, so I thought…"

He trailed off, before gesturing around him at the dandelions, slowly drifting to the floor. "So I thought 'why not make it memorable?'" He bit his lip. "Do you… I know it's a lot to ask, but do you forgive me?"

She blinked, eyes widening ever so slightly. Forgive him for _what? _She couldn't see that he'd done anything wrong — there had been more pressing things to think about than her little date, and she had accepted that. Still, he looked as though he wanted to say something more, his mouth opening and closing ever so slightly as he struggled for the words. "And I… and I wanted to say thank you — thank you for coming to see me and… and saying that stuff you said. It meant a lot. It… it really helped, too."

Naruto smiled.

"Thanks, Hinata."

Hinata returned his smile, eyes closing, features gentle, as the wind picked up once again, and the dandelions danced around them.

"It was the least I could do."

**.**

**.**

Pushing open Hinata's bedroom door, Neji discovered two things — firstly, that his younger cousin was missing, and had, judging from her hastily closed window and the mess she'd left her room in, left in some haste; and secondly, after glancing briefly out the window, that Tenten was waiting for him outside. She waved one arm, her features tugging into a smile, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly — not that it wasn't nice to see Tenten, of course, but Kakashi and Kiba were stood flanking her, which was, in all, rather odd.

Absently, he tried to remember whether he was scheduled to do any training with any of the three of them. He was entirely sure he'd never once trained with Kiba, though he had tag-teamed with Kakashi against Lee and Gai — not that _that_ had finished well and, needless to say, they hadn't done any training together since. He was sure Tenten was spending time with her family today, because she'd given him strict instructions not to interrupt them; she didn't get to spend much time with either her mother or her father, because of her duties, so, when she _did_ get time, it became precious to her.

So…

As far as he knew, he wasn't _supposed_ to be meeting any of them.

That didn't rule out missions, however. There was every chance the Hokage wished for them to complete a mission together; and, judging from the three of them and their different capabilities, Neji was pretty sure it'd be a relatively difficult mission. If Tenten was part of it, then there would definitely be a possibility they'd have to fight — likewise, since Kakashi was part of the team, they no doubt needed experience. Adding Kiba's sense of both hearing and smell to Neji's byakugan, it would probably be a stealth mission — a mission in which having the advantage would be of the utmost importance.

Still, he could theorise for as long as he wanted — that didn't change the fact that three shinobi were stood outside his front door, waving urgently for him to head on down. Luckily, he was already up and dressed, and thus didn't really have to leave them waiting; bidding Hanabi goodbye — because Hinata had vanished and Hiashi was in his study, and therefore did not wish to be disturbed —, he left the Hyuuga residence, greeting his teammate, as well as the other two shinobi, with a polite nod.

"Neji!" Tenten called, her grin fixed in place; he realised, idly, that her hair was slightly messy, as though her hair had been hurriedly swept into its two signature buns, and her clothes were rumpled. "Kakashi said the Hokage wants to see us. Apparently, it's pretty important."

"Yeah, it'd better be," Kiba grumbled from behind her, lazily raising a hand in a sort of greeting, his other patting Akamaru absently; he looked annoyed — and Neji realised he hadn't worked with Kiba on a mission since they'd worked together in an attempt to bring Sasuke back, just after the Chunnin exam. "This is my day off, and I was looking forward to doing absolutely _nothing."_

"Don't complain," Tenten replied snappily, flapping a hand at the other boy as the group began to move — Kakashi took the lead, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other clutching that familiar little orange book. "If Tsunade's called for you, then you should be _happy. _You should take pride in the fact she obviously thinks you're competent enough for her to trust you on a mission — although, _I'd_ disagree."

She flashed Kiba a grin.

"Then again, if you want your day off so desperately, you can always run back home — and we'll just tell Tsunade you weren't feeling up to it; and _then_ we'll see what she has to say."

The Inuzuka flinched — not that Neji could blame him. Sometimes, when she wanted to, Tenten could be _hell_ to work with; and, then again, Kiba was exactly the sort of person who tended to rub her up the wrong way. She'd worked all her life as hard as she could, facing defeat after defeat, because others had simply been one step better than her — with Temari especially, way back then, it had hit her hard. She'd trained and trained and trained non-stop; she didn't want to be a hindrance to her team — she wanted to _help._ People like Kiba, who could boast so easily of their skill and strength; no, Tenten generally couldn't _deal_ with people like that. After all, _she'd_ had to work to get to where she was — not as hard as Lee, granted, but still, she'd worked as hard as she could.

Not as hard as _Naruto_ — but, then again, Naruto was a special case; he _still_ managed to rub her up the wrong way.

No, Tenten had gotten used to her stoic Hyuuga and her enthusiastic Lee; and she'd gotten used to her sensei, as well. She worked best in that team, with those three people — and although it wasn't professional of her, she found herself becoming easily snappy around others. Neji wondered if she'd noticed it — judging from the look on her face, she hadn't. Then again, judging from the look on Kiba's face, he was used to that type of attitude — after all, he lived in a family of women, and had gotten used to the sort of mood swings Tenten was prone to.

Not to mention his mother was the scariest woman Kiba knew, and _no one_ could top her — so he simply held his hands up in surrender, and Tenten let out a little murmured apology. In front of them, Kakashi chuckled at something in his book, a little blush adorning his features as he ignored the others — and Neji let out a small, resigned sigh, pressing a hand against his forehead, as Tenten and Kiba began to bicker anew.

Oh, this was _definitely_ going to be _fun_.

**.**

**.**

"You were up early."

Hinata blinked, having only just managed to duck back into the Hyuuga household, trying her hardest to be as secretive as possible — up until that moment, she'd been fairly certain no one had noticed her leave; but then she remembered seeing Hanabi's curtain twitch, and she smiled sheepishly at her younger sister. The smaller girl merely raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head ever so slightly — her eyes were pretty much blank. Absently, Hinata wondered when Neji would arrive to save her from the interrogation she was sure would follow.

"You didn't answer my question," Hanabi said, finally.

"…you didn't _ask_ a question, sister," Hinata replied, biting her lip, eyes searching for an escape route — there were many things she was happy to talk to her sister about, training and shinobi duties being just two of those things; but Naruto was off limits. There was no way she was discussing her crush — her _infatuation_ — with Hanabi, purely because the younger girl wouldn't understand; it had nothing to do with her age, because, in that sense, she was a very bright girl.

Hanabi just didn't understand things like that.

"You know what I meant," the younger girl retorted, taking a step forwards. "You can't deny it, either. I _saw_ you leave this morning. You _were_ up early. You were going to meet a _boy_ — that… Nabuto? Nagato—?"

"_N—Naruto_."

"See? You _were_ going to see him."

"Even if I was," Hinata said uneasily, struggling for words, "Why would you _want_ — no, _need_ — to know? It's p—private."

Hanabi simply shrugged. "I wouldn't. I was simply curious."

Hinata resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Their father could train Hanabi as much as he wanted to, but there were certain things her sister would never excel at, purely because of her militant upbringing. She found it difficult to read body language, to understand others, as was often proved by her interactions with her two teammates, as well as her interactions in the Academy — she didn't understand people her own age, and couldn't interact properly with them.

And she couldn't talk _boys_ to save her life.

But as Hinata stared at her little sister, and thought all those things, she saw the younger girl deflate slightly, as if Hinata had openly, harshly rejected her. She supposed, in a way, it could seem like that — way before, when Hanabi was only young, they'd spent more time together; they'd studied together, played together — and, each night, it had been Hinata who read Hanabi a bedtime story. It wasn't anything big; Hanabi had still been forced to train from an earlier age than Hinata had, and she'd still been as awkward as she was now.

But, back then, the two sisters had been… closer.

Hanabi missed that — not that she'd ever admit it.

She watched as her younger sister turned away, and she was aware of the stifling silence between them — her sister had wanted to talk, she supposed; to share a moment. Hinata wasn't sure _why_ she wanted to do such a thing, when she was usually so distant — but, then again, as a family, they were _all_ quite distant. She bit her lip, because she wanted to keep Naruto and that little moment they'd shared a secret — she wanted it to be _hers_. But she watched as her sister's shoulders fell, and she knew she couldn't do such a thing.

"Hey, H—Hanabi? Wait a second — if you grab some cinnamon rolls out of the kitchen, we can talk for a l—little while…"

While she didn't smile, Hanabi's eyes lit up, and she ducked her head — whether in thanks or simply confirming that she'd heard Hinata's request, she wasn't sure, but she watched as her sister disappeared around the corner. She crossed her arms over her chest, allowing a small smile to flicker across her face as she waited for her sister to return; after all, she had time — she had time to talk with her sister for a little while, to bond. She had time to ask questions about how her missions were going, how training was, how her work was going — and about the people she'd met on her missions. About her teammates.

She had time.

She had _enough_ time — and, when she was finished, she would go and visit Sasuke.

**.**

**.**

"You wanted to see us, Lady Tsunade?"

The Hokage made a steeple with her fingers, gazing at the shinobi assembled before her over the top of them — she was sat forwards in her chair, leaning across her desk, and there was a bottle of sake by her side. Absently, Neji noticed Kiba wrinkle his nose — obviously he'd picked up the stench of alcohol much quicker than he had —, but, within moments, the other's features were blank once again. Neji's gaze flickered back to Tsunade, watching as she nodded, standing up, only wobbling once.

"I heard it was important," Kakashi prompted, as the Hokage made no attempt to continue with the conversation, instead turning away to face the village below — and still she didn't respond, this time clasping her hands behind her, humming softly beneath her breath.

He noticed Tenten staring at him, an eyebrow raised — their eyes met, and he simply shrugged ever so slightly in response, before his stare returned to the Hokage. He'd dealt with Tsunade time and time again, but she'd never acted this strangely; usually, she was hasty, rushing to get them briefed on their mission and out of her office, for reasons unknown to Neji — no doubt she wanted another drink, or had something important to do, or _both. _But now, she was simply staring, as if unsure of what to say. Which _definitely_ meant that the news would be bad, and that the mission would be a difficult one.

They stood in silence for a moment longer, before Kakashi cleared his throat and Tsunade finally turned around. She clapped her hands together, amber eyes meeting each and every one of them, before she finally spoke. "As you obviously know, two weeks ago, we apprehended Uchiha Sasuke — a group of ANBU caught him and, ever since, he has been kept here, in Konoha's very own prison. It took a lot of gambles, a lot of rushed deals, to get him back here — after all, he was caught closer to Amegakure than Konoha, and Kumogakure fought valiantly for Sasuke's immediate execution, as opposed to imprisonment. He wasn't given a trial. No one, including myself, felt he deserved that right."

She fell silent. Neji noticed, absently, that Kakashi wasn't quite looking at her — that his eyes were trained on the ground, carefully blank — and that his fingers kept itching towards his pockets, towards his little orange book, for some sort of reassurance.

"We know this," Tenten spoke, finally, as Tsunade made no effort in continuing. "Does this mean our mission has something to do with Sasuke…?"

"No," Tsunade replied, before reconsidering. "Well, I suppose, in a _way… _No, let me continue as I was. Ever since Sasuke was caught, Akatsuki activity — well, _any_ sort of rogue shinobi activity — has died down into almost nothing; the team Sasuke was said to be a part of has gone into hiding, disappearing almost entirely, and I fear we haven't seen the last of them. As a result, I sent a kunoichi — Mitarashi Anko, to be exact — on a mission to the last known whereabouts of an Akatsuki informant, in the hope that we'd discover something new. I sent her exactly three days ago. She should have been back by now — in fact, considering the type of mission I sent her on, she should have been back yesterday, or late evening the day before. She shouldn't… she shouldn't _still_ be missing.

Perhaps I'm assuming the worst, but I believe the Akatsuki are still at large; and many agree with me. Sasuke wasn't a huge part of the Akatsuki — in fact, I'm sure even _he_ didn't consider himself to be a part of the Akatsuki —, but, since he _was_ a part of it, they no doubt wanted him for some reason. He could be important to them; I wouldn't know. Still, I believe they're plotting something — planning something — and I plan on using Hi—"

She stopped herself, rather abruptly, and Neji's eyes narrowed.

"…I plan on milking the Uchiha _brat_ for as much information as he can give."

Tsunade paused then, dusting herself down, gazing at each of the four shinobi in turn; her eyes lingered on Kakashi for just a fraction too long, and Neji was almost entirely certain he knew what she was thinking. The Jounin could act as distant as he wanted to, but he was still emotionally attached to the Uchiha; would those emotions get in the way of the mission? Kakashi _had_ been a member of the ANBU; he was certain they wouldn't, but…

It wasn't worth thinking about.

"Is that our mission, then?" Kiba asked, raising an eyebrow, his words laced with disbelief. "You want us to go and listen to rumours and gossip, in an attempt to catch a snippet of truth?"

Tsunade smiled humourlessly. "Something like that, I suppose."

There was a moment of silence, in which the four shinobi exchanged glances. In all fairness, Neji felt as though it was hardly a worthwhile mission — while he was also certain that the Akatsuki were undoubtedly up to no good, it wasn't a mission _he_ should be wasted on, as arrogant as that might have sounded. It was a stealth mission for ANBU; but Tsunade seemed to think they would be suited for the job, and so he was hardly going to complain. He watched as the Hokage tapped a folder on her desk.

"Here's the briefing for the mission, as well as a general briefing on the Akatsuki. There's a copy for each of you — you have an hour to memorise it _all. _After that hour, you have thirty minutes to pack any necessities and say your goodbyes. I will meet you by the gate exactly five minutes later."

Tsunade's smile returned.

"You leave _tonight."_

**.**

**.**

After an hour of talking to Hanabi, Hinata, as cruel as it might sound, was more than happy to leave — not that she would ever admit it. She loved her sister dearly, of course, but sometimes they couldn't quite _work_ together — they were no longer like clockwork; they were too different, too separate, to ever be that smooth again. And, although she missed that unity they used to have, she wouldn't wish for anything different.

She _liked_ her little sister as she was.

She was busy thinking those thoughts as she arrived at the door of Sasuke's cell, not really noticing when Ibiki held it open for her — she only just managed to startle herself out of her reverie to nod a quick thanks, and then he was gone, back down the corridor they'd just walked up. She stared after him, for a moment, before slipping inside the room and turning to look at Sasuke — he looked just as tired as he'd first been, just as ill and sick and lonely; but, whether she'd imagined it or not, she _swore_ his eyes lit up when he saw her.

She barely noticed the two ANBU leave, disappearing as silently as shadows as she settled down into her seat. She gazed up at Sasuke, smiling ever so slightly, before nodding her head in greeting. "Hello."

"…It's nice to see you," he replied, eventually, tilting his head ever so slightly. "I always wonder when you're going to grow bored of these little visits."

"I don't think I w—will," Hinata spoke pleasantly, clasping her hands in her lap, her eyes never leaving his. He chuckled softly at her reply, shaking his head, letting the conversation lapse into a comfortable silence; she took that moment to consider his features carefully, absently comparing him to Neji. They both had the same strong cheek bones, the same aristocratic nose — but Sasuke's features seemed smoother, rounder, and his eyes were colder. His hair was darker than Neji's, and unkempt — but whether that was because of his capture, or just a natural thing for him, she didn't know.

She doubted she'd _ever_ know.

Her thoughts returned to Hanabi, for just a moment; and that was perhaps the moment that she realised Sasuke was a younger sibling, as well. Whenever he'd spoken of Itachi, it had been as his older brother, and so Hinata had never really thought of Sasuke as being the younger child — of their relationship being much like Hinata's and Hanabi's, in a way. She wondered, had their situations been reversed — had Sasuke and Itachi been allowed to grow up in a normal manner —, what would have become of them? Would their relationship be as disjointed as hers was with Hanabi, or would they have remained smooth, close-knit, like clockwork?

"What are you thinking about?" Sasuke spoke, startling Hinata out of her thoughts.

She furrowed her brow, biting her lip, unsure of whether or not she should tell him. After a moment of thought, she decided she _would_, and so she opened her mouth and simply blurted the question out.

"Do you ever think about what _c—could_ of happened?"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, and Hinata instantly grew bashful, looking away, certain she'd hurt his feelings. Her fingers pressed together and her cheeks grew pink, as they always did whenever she was nervous. "I mean, if… if things had been _d—different_, and… But you don't have to answer it, Sasuke; that was too b—bold of me. I'm s—sorry—"

"—No, that's okay."

Her eyes widened, and her head jerked upwards so quickly that she almost gave herself whiplash; her hair fell across her face, and Sasuke chuckled again.

"I _like_ it when you're bold. It's… _interesting_," he spoke, before shaking his head, returning to her actual question, dismissing his first sentence as easily as that and leaving Hinata to bask in her surprise. "In regards to your question, _yes. _I think about it constantly. Had things been different — had my brother been different, had I been different, had _everything_ been different —, we might be talking under different circumstances, instead of from behind a glass wall."

She realised, absently, that he had turned the question around; while she'd meant it to be about his family, his brother, his friends, he had understood the question to be about their relationship — or had, in some way, managed to switch the question around so that it _was_ about their relationship. Whether this was because he didn't like thinking of his family and what could have been, or because he truly valued her visits, she didn't know.

But it made her _smile._ It tinged her cheeks pink. It made her heart thump. And she couldn't quite meet her eyes, as she tried to think of a response.

"That's… that's _true_," she replied, because there wasn't really anything else she could say, and because she found herself half-thinking of Naruto, and comparing the two sensations.

That moment with Naruto, earlier… that feeling was different to this feeling. Back then, she'd been partly giddy because of the romance, and partly giddy because he'd finally _realised_; he'd realised exactly how much he'd missed, and exactly how much she'd done, and he'd _thanked_ her. He'd respected that. It had turned out that Naruto wasn't quite as dense as everyone first thought, as people made out; and it had been a sweet little moment, like something out of a storybook, that she was quite certain _any_ girl would have blushed.

But, _this…_

This was something different, but entirely the same, all at the same time; she was giddy because it was such a sweet thing to say — and because he'd been _accidentally_ sweet. He'd misunderstood her, that much was certain from the look of slight confusion at her response; and she found that even sweeter. And she was partly giddy because he'd finally _realised_; he'd realised she wasn't going to give up and just _leave_ him, no matter how many sarcastic comments he made. And although he hadn't said it as plain and simple as that, he _had_ realised.

And so Hinata smiled.

"Thank you, S—Sasuke."

**.**

**.**

When Neji arrived at the Hyuuga compound, Hinata _still_ wasn't there; which was a shame, really — he'd quite wanted to say goodbye. He'd packed his bag in silence, making sure to include a few packets of dried food, as well as weapons and medicine — Hanabi knocked on his door at one point, offering him a tub of ointment, which she'd made herself. His eyes had widened at the gesture, but he'd nodded and thanked her anyway, packing it purely because it was polite to do so; he'd accepted her wishes of good luck, and he'd said goodbye to her.

Before leaving, he'd slipped into Hinata's bedroom, feeling ever so slightly sad that he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye. He left a letter for his (favourite) cousin tucked into her flower-pressing book, which he tucked beneath her pillow.

With that, he was ready.

**.**

**.**

Hinata and Sasuke spoke about everything and nothing, really; they shared little, tiny stories, but Hinata couldn't quite concentrate, because of his earlier comment, and so she bid him goodbye earlier than she usually would. He nodded, thankful for even seeing _someone_ at least once, and she promised she'd visit him again tomorrow, despite the fact that he already knew she would. She passed the ANBU on her way out.

She walked home in a giddy stupor — and the first thing she did, upon reaching her bedroom, was throw herself upon the bed, the mattress bouncing as she did so. Something clattered to the floor, and she sat up, blinking, before simply assuming something had fallen off her desk. Whatever it was, she'd pick it up in the morning.

When she fell asleep, she dreamed of Naruto and Sasuke and Hanabi and _everyone._

She never once realised that she hadn't seen Neji all day.

(And so she never got to say goodbye.)

**.**

**.**

The flower-pressing book lay forgotten on the floor.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	15. day 15

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **many thanks to dumdeedum & simsen, both of whom made me smile. also, thanks to gred and forge, purely for having an epic name. ;)

**chapter: **15/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**: **

okay, so i lied — chapter fourteen _wasn't_ the last chapter of 2010; i aim on writing as much as i can before 2011. so here's another chapter, guys, as a little christmas present from me to you. hope you all have a fantastic day. :D

MERRY (EARLY) CHRISTMAS!

(oh, and there's totally a poll up on my profile, now. please vote for your favourite idea! :D & about this chapter - what can i say? i _love_ angsty foreshadowing.)

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata didn't realise her cousin was gone until late morning, when she found that she'd slept in, and that the house was practically empty. Her father was in his study, as he usually was when he wasn't on a mission, and her sister had left for training. She frowned, rubbing her eyes as she entered the kitchen, at first unsure of where he could be — but she knew either Lee or Tenten would know, or be with him, and so she chose to forget about it, eating her breakfast in silence.

She left the house not long after, pulling on her fluffy hooded jacket and heading out towards the market — most of the vegetables she'd bought a few days ago had been used up when making dinner, and so it was around about time she stocked up. She spotted Ino and Sakura as she walked along, chattering together — Ino waved a hand when Hinata passed, her movements exaggerated and large. She'd smiled bashfully back, and Sakura had inclined her head, a small smile passing across her features — neither she or Hinata had forgotten the last words they'd exchanged.

It was around about that time when Hinata realised she didn't often talk to the other kunoichi.

Sure, sometimes she spent time talking to Tenten, but that was only when the other girl came over to see Neji — she'd have to keep the other girl talking until Neji arrived, and then Tenten would leave her without a second thought. She only ever spoke to Ino if she was at the other girl's flower shop, or spotted her on the street, and then it would be a brief conversation, over in a flash — and she used to rarely speak to Sakura at all, partly out of jealousy, and partly because she could never think of the right words to say.

It didn't bother her, not really; after all, everyone had friends they were close to — and she was close to Kiba and Shino, and sometimes, occasionally Neji; she was fine with those bonds, and spent time strengthening them. Perhaps because of the fact that she had once been so shy, she couldn't ever quite bring herself to talk to anyone else, unless it was something she absolutely _had_ to do, like for a mission.

It wasn't because she was rude; it was because, when she _tried_, she would find that she'd clam up almost immediately. Kiba was the one who did all of the talking — when Hinata tried, her sentences came out jumbled, and her thoughts were rushed, and her stutter would reappear tenfold. She didn't do it as much now; now, she was relatively brave, relatively strong, and she could talk to others if she had to — if she _wanted_ to.

But still — there were certain people she was certain she'd _never_ be able to talk to.

Shikamaru was one of those people. He was a nice guy, she was sure of that; after all, she'd had to spend time listening to Ino rant and rage about him, and those rants had always tuned down into a little sighs and so on. He had his faults, she knew that — he was incredibly lazy but, then again, he was a _genius. _And that was one of the things that scared her; not his techniques, because, while they _were_ strong and terrifying in their own right, she could look past his ability. It was his _brain_ that scared her.

Because he always _knew._

She remembered, back in the Academy, that Shino and Shikamaru had been playing a game of shogi; and, back then, Shino had been the cleverest person she knew. He was a strategist — back then, and _now_ — and that was his speciality; he could guess ahead; he could understand the enemy enough to form a plan. For a while, as she'd watched — and as Kiba had slept, after growing easily bored —, she'd been certain he was going to win; although they'd played slowly, carefully, as far as she could see, Shino had definitely had the upper-hand. It was an impressive game to watch, but she _knew_ Shino was going to win.

It was a surprise when he _didn't._

Near the end of the game, Shikamaru took the lead, forcing Shino's moves to turn defensive and, in turn, _useless_, and eventually beating him completely. It turned out Shikamaru had planned the entire game in his head, adjusting and changing his moves — and the outcome —, whenever Shino had made a move different to the one Shikamaru had thought he would make. He'd checked the other's body language — he'd used everything he knew about Shino to _win_, and back then, Hinata had found that terrifying.

She still found it relatively scary now; he could notice things, little details, which made the big picture. It could be the smallest thing — a missing kunai, a misplaced hair grip, or so on —, but he would notice it, and therefore make his judgements based on that little detail. Nine times out of ten, he was correct.

Still, she'd never really spoken to him on her own; usually, she would speak to people who were friends of _her_ friends and, as a result, Kiba usually meant that she would end up talking to Naruto or Chouji. While Kiba _had_ been friends with Shikamaru back in the Academy, Hinata had been too shy to talk to him then — and she was _still_ too shy. No, she hadn't really ever sat down and spoken to Shikamaru on his own, with no one else around — which was why she was pretty surprised when, as she was out shopping, he tapped her shoulder and offered to buy her ramen. She'd raised her eyebrows, biting back the question that threatened to escape her lips, and had nodded hesitantly — after which, Shikamaru had bought the vegetables she was holding for her, and then lead her away, walking slightly slouched over to the ramen stand.

She placed her bags down on the ground beside her, hopping up onto one of the stools, watching as Shikamaru ordered two bowls of ramen — she took a moment to study his features, searching for something that might perhaps clue her in as to why they were eating together. It wasn't as though she was unhappy about it — she was _glad_ she was talking to someone new —, but it was just… strange.

Odd.

He ducked his head in her direction. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Hinata bit her lip, before asking, "Why are we here?"

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, rubbing his forehead blearily, smiling ever so slightly at her. "You _said_ you wanted to come here…"

"No, I m—meant…" She trailed off, unsure of how else to put it, without hurting his feelings; but he was a bright guy, and he nodded, waving a hand at her.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he replied, smiling ever so slightly, before nodding in thanks as the two bowls of ramen were placed down in front of them. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Hinata blinked, eyes widening ever so slightly, but she didn't say anything, merely nodding for him to continue. He turned away then, snapping his chopsticks apart and idly chasing noodles around the bowl — he seemed to be considering something, thinking for a little while before facing her once again.

"You're hiding something," Shikamaru spoke, finally, and Hinata's eyes widened — she sucked in a breath, tensing despite herself; despite the fact that Kurenai had always told her that she could give away so many secrets by the simplest of movements. He was eyeing her carefully.

Reading her body language.

She forced herself to relax, smiling uneasily. "…e—everyone has secrets."

"You're not very good at hiding yours," he replied, shrugging a shoulder. "When you get nervous, your stutter gets worse and your entire body goes rigid. You duck your head slightly, as well, which would signal you're doing something you _shouldn't_ be doing…"

He trailed off, before reconsidering.

"No, _I'm _doing something I shouldn't be doing. I shouldn't be questioning you, right? Which would make me believe that whatever you're doing is something the Hokage has asked you to keep a secret," Shikamaru finished, nodding once. "I don't need to know, anymore."

"…You… You don't need to _know _anymore?" Hinata repeated, her voice uncertain — she couldn't quite understand. Shikamaru had gotten so close; if he'd jabbed anymore, she would have spilled all, because she was _like_ that — and because she knew Shikamaru wasn't an enemy. Her eyes widened again and she felt her body tense, but she managed to relax quicker than before, keeping his words in mind.

"No," he nodded again, finally picking a noodle up with his chopsticks and placing it in his mouth. "It's troublesome, but I had to make sure you weren't doing something _bad. _I've drawn my conclusions as to what you actually _are_ doing — which, I assume, is visiting Uchiha Sasuke —, but, from your reactions, I assume the Hokage already knows something about it — therefore, it isn't my problem."

For a few seconds, Hinata wasn't sure how to respond.

For one, Shikamaru _knew. _She didn't know _how_ he knew, or for how long he'd known, but he _knew_, and that was all that mattered. From there on in, she wasn't sure how to react — she didn't know Shikamaru well enough to judge whether he'd be able to keep it a secret; and the fact that he'd so calmly tricked her into giving away information… She had been right. He was _scarily_ clever — so much so, that she was now left feeling rather confused.

Eventually, after much consideration, she opened her mouth to respond. "This… well… you're _r—right_, obviously — but you know that, so… The thing is, this is supposed to be a s—secret; and Naruto _cannot_ know, the Hokage was certain about that — if he _does_ find out, I c—can't visit Sasuke anymore, and that would… that might _break _him. So, please…"

She bit her lip, meeting his gaze; but she couldn't stop herself from smiling ever so slightly, because it felt _good_ that someone else knew. She'd had this weight upon her shoulders for just past a week, and she was _glad_ to be able to share it with someone else. She noticed, absently, that Shikamaru's eyes were oak brown and tired; but they were trustworthy. They shone in the same way Naruto's did.

"Can you keep this to yourself?"

He shrugged a shoulder, before nodding, returning her smile slightly, before spinning back to face his noodles.

"It's troublesome, but I _will."_

**.**

**.**

Sasuke stared blankly at the wall ahead of him, as he waited for the day to trickle by — waiting for the choice moments that signalled the general time. At around midday — lunchtime, he thought —, both ANBU members would leave the room, one by one, for exactly five minutes; and, during those five minutes, Ibiki would arrive, sitting in the chair in front of him, for his ten minutes of generally mocking Sasuke and so on.

He watched, absently, as the first ANBU disappeared, slipping out of the room like a ghost; and he half-expected Ibiki to enter immediately. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, however, when the Hokage stepped inside, amber eyes narrowed as she gazed at him — he only just managed to stop himself from smirking, watching as the remaining ANBU saluted before falling still. Tsunade clasped her hands behind her back, sitting down slowly in front of Sasuke, scrutinizing his features in a way which was obviously made to make him feel uncomfortable.

It didn't particularly work, though, and Tsunade was obviously pressed for time; she crossed one leg over the other and leaned forwards. "Listen, Uchiha — I have something I need to ask," she said finally, her voice breaking the silence.

He tilted his head, still smirking, unable to stop himself this time; it was all too funny. Judging from the disgruntled look on Tsunade's face, she was going to ask a question to which his answer would no doubt be negative.

In fact, he was looking forward to saying _no._

"You're fifteen days into your sentence," she continued, ignoring the fact that his smirk only widened as she spoke. "In thirty-five days, you _will_ be _dead. _However, I could re-think your sentence, Uchiha, if you offer me information. Would you be willing to make a deal?"

His smirk became cruel.

"_No."_

Tsunade's eyes widened and then narrowed; her fists clenched in her lap, and she stiffened, leaning forwards ever so slightly, her voice softening down into a hiss. "And why ever _not?"_

"Because," Sasuke answered, not even bothering to remove the hatred from his voice, "If you're _asking_ me — not trying to force me, not begging, but just _asking_ — then, obviously, you're _scared. _And so, as a result, you've tried to humanise me, because that would generally work on any common criminal — trying it on _me_, though… That's an _insult."_

She didn't even bother trying to reply. She just sat there, glowering, chakra surging towards her fist as she only just managed to control her temper — and it felt _good. _This level of control. With a few words, he could have her relaxed again; with a single, "Yes, I'll tell you _everything!_", she'd be smiling, and he'd have, what, _sixty_ days, maybe seventy at a push.

It wasn't worth it.

It was much better — much more _satisfying_ — to see her angry, and helplessly so; to know that she'd be constantly waiting on him to change his mind; because if she were so desperate as to ask him in the first place, then it _had_ to be bad. And it was no doubt Akatsuki related. Absently, he wondered what had happened and if someone had died, and, if yes, how much paperwork that meant Tsunade had to fill out.

"I wouldn't tell you anything anyway, if it makes you feel any better."

Sasuke smiled bitterly.

"After all — I _hate_ Konoha."

**.**

**.**

"…I _hate_ Konoha," Kiba announced, for the umpteenth time, as he watched Tenten and Neji set up camp — Neji rolled his eyes, but didn't respond, as he knew the other would continue anyway. "I mean, what is _up_ with us? I didn't think we were that bad, as far as villages go — I mean, Sunagakure is pretty _weird_, and yeah; so why is it everyone hates _us_ and not _them?"_

He paused in his pacing for a moment, turning to face the group leader, who was sat high above them, in the branches of a tree. In one hand was his signature orange book; in the other, he held a kunai, tracing little doodles on the bark of the branch he was sat upon. He raised an eyebrow as Kiba pointed at him, obviously addressing his next question to the silver-haired Jounin.

"It's probably a stupid question," the Inuzuka admitted, before plunging ahead nonetheless, "But doesn't it feel as though the Akatsuki are _always_ targeting us — I mean, Konoha?"

This time, both of Kakashi's eyebrows shot upwards, and he shook his head, murmuring something about how he'd expect better from Naruto. He shut his book, slipping it back into his pocket before spinning around, leaning forwards so that he was gazing down at Kiba, his head tilted ever so slightly, his voice muffled from his mask.

"Do you _ever_ shut up?"

"He'll wind down eventually," Tenten murmured, shifting the tent she was sharing with Neji so that it stood straighter. "Lee goes through this stage, near the beginning of a mission. He's just excited. He'll shut up at some point."

Neji snorted.

Kiba looked affronted. "I resent that—"

"And if he _doesn't_, I'll shut him up," she finished, as though he had never even begun to speak, reaching absently into her pocket and pulling out a kunai — she pressed the flat of the weapon against the palm of her hand, turning it over once, inspecting the sharpness of the edges. Satisfied, she span and flung it at Kiba — he ducked, although it was pointless; Tenten had never been aiming at him to begin with, and so the kunai thudded harmlessly into a tree trunk behind him.

"You ought to be careful with those things!" Kiba snapped, his voice raising a pitch, his hands still held over his head — this time, Tenten snorted, returning to sorting out the tent; Neji clapped his hands together, dusting them down on his legs, before turning to face Kiba. "I'm lucky you missed."

"She wasn't aiming at you."

Kiba opened his mouth to retort, but Kakashi clapped his hands together, dropping down from the branch he'd been perched in and landing, with his hands tucked in his pockets, between them. He sighed heavily, shaking his head, this time murmuring about how he thought he was finished with this stuff when Sasuke left his team, before his head snapped back up to face the others. "Let's have a sense of seriousness about us, alright? This _is_ serious. You saw Tsunade back there — you saw her face; she was _worried. _And if the Hokage is worried, that's _never_ a good sign."

"How bad do you think it is?" Tenten asked, without turning around, making sure the tent was as perfect as it could possibly be.

"The situation with the Akatsuki?" Kakashi murmured, and, after Tenten's nod, took a moment to consider, before continuing, "It depends. At best, this is just a little thing, made up of nothing but rumours; after all, most of the Akatsuki are _dead_ — or, at least, their whereabouts are unknown. At best, Anko _isn't_ missing — she's just taking her time. At best, we can take a quick look around and then head home, happy and safe and all that jazz."

There was a moment of tense silence and, for a second, Neji _swore_ the forest around them was holding its breath. It was too silent. The branches of the trees were too still. Everything — _everything_ — seemed to have stopped, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Distantly, he noticed Kiba shiver, obviously feeling the same; and he heard, rather than saw, Akamaru whimper, from his position near the edge of the camp.

Kakashi smiled.

"At _worst_, we end up _dead_ and the Akatsuki destroy Konoha."

**.**

**.**

Hinata pushed her hands into her pockets, bidding Shikamaru farewell and thanking him for the ramen; she turned away, then, heading back towards the market with her shopping. She wasn't certain of what to do, actually — she didn't want to see Naruto, surprisingly, and she'd already bumped into Sakura and Ino once. She would have gone to see Kiba, but she hadn't seen him around and, on his days off, he usually spent time talking to people — catching up, really. If she hadn't seen him, then it was likely he was training or with his family.

Really, she ought to go and see Shino.

With her shopping in hand, she made her way to her friend's house; it had been a while since she'd spoken to him, away from a mission — and, really, if there was anyone she wished she could share her secret with, it was him. While it was nice to shift the weight from her shoulders, she wasn't entirely sure as to whether she'd shifted it to the right person, and she frowned ever so slightly as she knocked upon his door. She was guided into the house and, after kicking off her shoes, sent up to his room by his father, who merely smiled at the fact she was there.

She waited a moment, adjusting her jacket, before raising her hand to knock upon the door — but before she could do so, the door had opened, and she found herself stood directly in front of Shino, blinking. He smiled at her, his eyes still shielded by those sunglasses — she couldn't remember a time when she'd seen them moved away —, before gesturing for her to follow him in.

She sat down on his bed, hands clasped in her lap, offering him a little smile, which he returned, leaning against his bedroom wall. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, in which Hinata took her time staring around the other's room, before her eyes finally met his, and her smile grew ever so slightly awkward. His brow furrowed.

"…is something the matter?"

Ah, Shino — he knew her far too well.

Her smile grew wider. "…I guess not. I mean, _no. _There's nothing wrong."

He looked as though he wanted to continue the conversation, wanted to press for more information, but he merely nodded. "Have you received any word from Daisuke?" He asked, finally, unsure of where to take the conversation and instead settling for small talk — she didn't mind, of course.

It felt nice.

"Ah," she shook her head. "No. I think he's forgotten about me."

Shino nodded, and the conversation lapsed into silence once again. Hinata found herself pressing her fingers together, a sign of nervousness, and she found that her thoughts began to stray — to Sasuke, to Naruto, to anyone else. She shook her head slightly, before smiling at Shino. "I, uh… I noticed Kiba hasn't been around; it's his day off. I usually see him a c—couple of times, by now."

The other boy raised an eyebrow.

"He's on a mission."

"Really?" Hinata blinked, eyes widening ever so slightly, and Shino nodded his head.

"Yeah. He came to say goodbye yesterday — he said he'd drop by your place next. Didn't you see him?"

"No," she shook her head. "I was out."

"I think he wanted to say goodbye."

Those words chilled her to her bone. It was something that every shinobi did — it was habit. No matter what rank your mission was, there was always a chance you wouldn't make it home afterwards; and, as a result, shinobi were given time to say goodbye, before they went on their mission. She felt her heart squeeze. She hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Kiba, to wish him luck — if anything happened…

If anything happened…

She bit her lip, as realisation dawned on her — and her thoughts turned to her cousin. "Did he… did he say who he was going with?"

Shino nodded. "Tenten, Kakashi and Neji. …you didn't know?"

She shook her head.

"I… I… I didn't even _know…_"

Hinata felt her heart ache.

"I never said _goodbye."_

**.**

**.**

The moment the door opened, and Hinata stepped into the room, Sasuke knew something was wrong; even though she smiled at him, trying her hardest for her usual happiness, he could still see something was upsetting her. She kept biting her lip, gazing off to the left as though thinking of something else — or some_one_ — and everything about her was troubled.

Ironic, really.

Sasuke had had a pretty good day, all things considered.

He raised his eyebrows, watching absently as she sat down, clasping her hands in her lap, her nails biting into her palms. She shifted in her seat, eyes flickering up to meet his — and almost immediately his thoughts were confirmed. She was worried, and very much so. Her eyes were distant. He frowned.

"…is something wrong?"

Almost instantly, she shook her head, either too choked up to answer, or simply choosing not to for fear of letting something slip — but her silence was just enough for him to grasp that yes, something was _definitely_ wrong. He wondered, absently, if it were something affecting him; but, from what he'd judged about Hinata, if whatever was troubling her somehow affected him, she would have told him. She was that kind of person. No, whatever had her so worried was something personal.

He narrowed his eyes.

Upon taking another look, he realised she wasn't so much _worried_, per say — yes, there was something _like_ worry glittering in her eyes, but there was also something else. Something extremely familiar. Something he'd seen glittering in his brother's eyes.

_Guilt._

He let out a resigned sigh, closing his eyes. "You can tell me, whatever it is. I'd hardly have a chance to let your secret slip, after all."

She shook her head again. "It's… it's nothing i—important," she murmured, but her voice broke on the last word, and his eyes snapped open.

Hinata looked as if she were about to cry, and Sasuke wasn't entirely sure how to deal with that. It couldn't be anything _extremely_ serious — no dead family members, no one gravely ill — because, if it was, she wouldn't have turned up; he was certain of that. No, actually, he _wasn't_ certain of that, because she surprised him sometimes. There was every chance she might turn up, no matter the weather — and so he struggled for words. There had to be something he could say to make everything better; bitterly, he realised Naruto would be much better at this than he — yet another thing the idiot could beat him at.

And so, he did what he did best.

"Hinata."

She looked up then, eyes meeting his — and he was struck, briefly, by how blank her eyes suddenly seemed. Usually, they were bright — like stars, fireflies, _whatever_ — but now… They were utterly blank. It was uncharacteristic of her. For a moment, it threw him off track.

"_Tell me."_

So she did.

**.**

**.**

"I never said goodbye."

Hinata watched as Sasuke arched an eyebrow, obviously unsure of what she was talking about — but he wanted to know, and so she'd tell him. It really was sweet of him, in a way — but he was right. He was the one person she could talk to confidentially, as cruel and selfish as it might sound, without rumours beginning, or knowing that someone else might judge her. She liked that idea; in a way, he was her secret friend.

"…to who?" He asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"To Kiba," she replied, easily, before biting her lip. "…Or Neji. Before — _way_ before —, it wouldn't have mattered, but we've… we've grown c—closer since, and I _always_ say goodbye to him. To _both _of them."

The other frowned, tilting his head ever so slightly, but nodding for her to continue — because he sensed she needed to get it out of her system, whatever was troubling her. She smiled gratefully, before frowning ever so slightly, searching for her next words, how to tell her story; eventually, satisfied, she began to speak.

"When you left, Neji… he, for lack of better words, chased you — and, during that time, he was injured. So injured, in fact, that when they brought him back, he could barely open his eyes — he looked _dead. _I was scared. I was young and stupid and _scared. _It had never struck me that he could die and, seeing him then, I knew it could happen. Seeing him beaten up and broken and _dying_, I knew that he could… he c—could…"

She trailed off.

He waited patiently for her to continue.

"…We weren't even that _close_ when it h—happened; it wasn't that long after the Chunnin exams, as I'm sure you know, and so we… we still weren't the best of f—friends. But it still… it _still_ shook me up. And then you… you should have seen _Kiba. _He doesn't talk about it, not even to us — Shino and I — but, from what we could get from Kankuro, he almost _died._"

She smiled bitterly, sourly — and Sasuke felt that it didn't suit her; it was just _wrong_.

"The worst thing was, I never said goodbye to either of them, back then, and l—look what happened. I'm not… I'm not superstitious — I don't believe in _l—luck_; but… just _look_ what happened…"

The corner of Sasuke's lips tugged downwards.

"I'm sorry."

Hinata's smile turned gentle, kinder, and she shrugged a shoulder. "It's a nice thing to say, but you _aren't _— and I d—don't really blame you for it. For what happened to them. I… I sort of u—used to, but I don't _now._"

She looked away.

"But I… I didn't get to say goodbye."

**.**

**.**

The second part of her sentence was left hanging, unspoken, in the air. Because, after all, if she didn't get to say goodbye — and thinking of what had happened _last_ time… No, while Hinata wasn't a superstitious girl, she realised that lightning _could_ strike twice.

And, if it did…

It wasn't worth thinking about.

**.**

**.**

Neji glanced upwards, back in the direction of Konoha, before his gaze turned to the skies. The clouds were grey — stormy and dark and _writhing_, he thought —, and threatened to spill rain upon the ground below. He glanced absently across at their tent, Tenten's silhouette shifting in the darkness as she attempted to get comfy in her sleeping bag. Up above him, Kakashi was still sat in his tree, gazing out into the forest, searching for any signs of movement, while Kiba lay asleep in their shared tent.

The older man waved jauntily down at him, slipping from the branch and landing beside the Hyuuga, pointing cheerily up at the sky. "Well, what do you know?

It's _raining."_

Sure enough, the first few droplets of rain began to splatter across the ground, one-two, one-two, picking up pace until it began to sound like the beating of a drum. Within seconds, Neji was soaked to the skin — but he still gazed upwards, white eyes turned to the heavens above. Kakashi placed a hand on his shoulder. There was a flash of light, jagged and piercing, in the sky above them — _lightning_ — and Neji wondered, absently, if it were a sign.

He shook his head.

No.

He wasn't a superstitious man.

He wondered if he had reason to be.

**.**

**.**

Up ahead, lightning struck and thunder crashed and the heavens wept for the people below — and Neji and Hinata and Sasuke all wondered if the sun would ever shine again.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	16. day 16

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **thank you to pretty much everyone! cat, anguamoon, sarcastic nightmare, fallenangelitachi & izusu-chan, as well as the regulars, hinata6, 07 & one heartbeat!

**chapter: **16/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**: **

sorry for the long wait! there's been a series of unfortunate events, in which i broke a memory stick, lost a memory stick, lost my muse & then found that i had a whole bunch of tests i should be "revising" (read: _cramming like crazy_) for. but, i'm here now, not only with a chapter of _fifty days_, but an all new sasuhina fic, titled _tag!_ check it out!

also, i have fanart. yeah, i know. how awesome is that? just google daliagray & last of days, and you'll find it.

i hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Sometimes, Shino didn't really understand Hinata.

She could be as brave as she wanted, though she always hindered by her crippling shyness; and she had the wonderful ability to blush various different shades of red, which was always an interesting thing to see. She was quiet, but she was smart, he knew that much; when they were smaller, he would constantly see her — before and after training — with a book tucked beneath her arm. He thought she was quite pretty, although she would have blushed and shook her head over and over again, if she'd ever heard him say such a thing; she was _plain_, in her opinion, not _pretty._

But he thought she was.

It wasn't just her face — although she did have a very pretty face — but more _all _of her, the inside and out; it was the way she held herself; she looked so vulnerable, but different. It was the way she spoke, as well, with her voice ringing out loud and clear, sometimes, before dropping down to an impossible level of quietness; sometimes, even he had to strain his ears, trying to hear some of the things she said. But it was the way she acted that did it most for him. While some might have called kunoichi like Ino beautiful, he would have had to disagree; Ino was so loud, so brash, that he would have felt the need to place his hands over his ears, were he anyone else. No, Hinata was quieter — she was polite and pleasant, a gentle soul in all aspects of the phrase, and that made her pretty.

Not that he'd ever tell her such a thing, as more than a friend; he truly loved Hinata, that much he could swear upon with his life, but he knew he was only a friend to her, and would no doubt only ever be considered a friend in her eyes. He was quiet, kind Shino, who was good at listening; that's why, when she wanted to talk, she came to _him. _She skirted around Kiba, almost entirely — he could listen for a select period of time, and then he wanted to bounce around, wanted to do _anything_, or at least _something_, because he'd been sat still for so long. He knew that, occasionally, she would talk to her cousin, Neji, but not always — sometimes, there were things she just couldn't mention around him. She couldn't talk to Naruto, of course; while they'd gotten closer, as far as Shino knew, she still blushed at the sound of his voice.

So, usually, it was _Shino_ she spoke to.

But, recently, he'd begun to feel as though he was a little out of the loop. He knew full well Hinata kept secrets — he'd known that back in the Academy, where she'd helped nurse a sick bird back to life, hiding it in the Academy gardens and sneaking out every now and again to feed it; Shino had, eventually, spotted what she was doing, and had begun helping her out, but that was beside the point. The point was, he _knew_ Hinata had secrets. She'd had them for as long as he could remember; sometimes, she told him them, and sometimes she didn't. That was fine with him — well, it _had_ been fine with him.

Now…

Now, he wasn't so sure.

She'd come to visit him, and was sat upon his bed, hands clasped in her lap, but they hadn't really said anything to each other — nothing but small-talk, really. The last time she'd spoken to him had been just yesterday, but that had been for a reason; she'd obviously known nothing about Kiba, and her cousin, as he later found out, being on a mission — and that was odd. For as long as he could remember, on any separate missions, Hinata would _always_, without fail, be waiting by Konoha Gates, to see them off. She would _always_ supply them with a little bit of home-made ointment, for wounds and such, despite the fact that it wasn't all that good; and she would _always_ wave and smile, as she wished them good luck, a safe journey, and good_bye._

But she'd _missed_ that.

She'd never had the chance to say goodbye.

She'd said that herself.

Now he wondered what was so important, that she'd missed something she _always_ did, without fail — that she'd forgotten to say goodbye to Kiba, to her own _cousin. _He didn't quite understand it, actually. That was out of character. It wasn't the Hinata he knew, and he wondered when she'd stopped being the Hinata he knew; before, she would have turned up at his door, just babble about _anything_, and he would have happily listened — now they were both sat in silence, and the atmosphere was tense, heavy.

"Hinata," he said, finally, and she looked up. "Can I ask a question? You don't have to answer it, of course, if you don't want to."

She bit her lip, looking ever so slightly hesitant, before nodding for him to continue.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Her eyes widened a fraction, and her fists clenched, but she didn't reply, not instantly — instead, she simply looked at him, her thoughts elsewhere. He wondered, absently, what — no, _who_, because he was quite sure, now, that it was a _who_ — she was thinking of, and why they were so important; and then he saw that she'd uncurled her fists, and that her hands were hanging loosely by her sides. She was gazing directly at him, head tilted slightly, as if considering something he'd said; not that, really, he'd said anything all that strange.

He was just a friend.

And he was just trying to help out.

After all — a secret shared is a secret halved, or something like that. He'd heard one of the children at the Academy say it, once upon a time, and had asked his father what it meant; his father had stared at him for a second, before replying, with no smile, "You'll understand eventually." With that, Shino had been sent to his room, for bed, and had lain awake for an hour trying to figure out what it meant.

He understood now, of course. And he wanted to _help._

She opened her mouth.

"…you can't tell _a—anyone_," she said, finally, still hesitant. "Not even Kiba. Not my family, not Kiba — and especially not N—Naruto."

That was pretty much all it took.

That one little sentence, and Shino had figured it all out already. Behind his sunglasses, he figured the sudden widening, and then narrowing, of his eyes was difficult to see, but Hinata must have judged his reaction anyway, because she nodded once, with a little sheepish smile. Absently, he realised she must have become quite close to that someone, if it had caused her to miss her own cousin's departure. He wondered if that was all a good thing.

After all, if you fly too close to the sun, you're sure to get burnt.

"I've been visiting Uchiha Sasuke."

Still, it took him a little while to truly comprehend what she'd said. It wasn't that it was something he found extremely surprising; although, undoubtedly, it _was_ surprising — after all, as far as he knew, Hinata had never once spoken to Sasuke, and he hardly seemed like the type of person she'd associate herself with, whether he'd become a traitor or not. He was cold and stoic, silent at the best of times, dangerous at worst; and she was sweet. A bit like sugar. They didn't suit each other, he thought; or, well, they were unexpected at most — he would never have expected them to ever speak to each other; not even _once. _

They just didn't suit each other.

So he simply nodded, because that was all he could do, and listened as she explained the past fifteen days to him. He sat in silence, eyes dark behind his sunglasses, listening quietly — because he was good at listening, and that was what Hinata needed him for.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, as she neared the end of her speech—

"Are you doing the right thing?"

**.**

**.**

Sasuke closed his eyes.

_Darkness._

It was something he was growing more and more accustomed to, as time passed; it was his constant companion, if he was feeling poetic, and it watched. It waited and lingered, threading through the room, silent as the two ANBU stood watch. It seemed as though the light hid away faster than usual; it felt as though night had come early, and, even with his eyes closed, he could _feel_ the darkness. It was always dark.

Except, he thought absently, when _she_ was around.

Then—

Then everything lit up.

He opened his eyes.

All he had to do was _wait._

**.**

**.**

It was silent.

The forest around them was completely and utterly _silent _— and they were completely and totally still, gazing about them. Kakashi had taken the lead, in typical Kakashi style; even with his book held open in front of him, his other hand tucked into his pocket, it was obvious he was entirely alert — his eyes were barely skimming the page, taking every few seconds to glance upwards, checking out his surroundings. He shifted backwards, then, foot pushing across the dirt, scraping tiny bits of stone across the dirt path, and he nodded once, briskly.

Behind him, the other three simultaneously rolled their eyes — something, Kakashi realised, a lot of people ended up doing around him. Naruto and Sakura had started doing it recently, Naruto more so than he used to — and Kurenai had begun doing it again, when he ruffled her hair and said he'd look out for her. Asuma used to roll his eyes a lot. Tsunade did it, too, when he turned up late with the wrong report, or the wrong document, but _still_ tried to get out of delivering the actual one to her. Shizune did it, when he appeared at the hospital with numerous cuts and bruises. Obito and Rin used to do it all the time.

Sasuke had done it a whole bunch, as well.

He let his eyes flicker back to the pages in front of them, as they began to walk again. He quite enjoyed quiet. He'd never really had any of it with _his_ team — team_mates_, they were now, Sakura and Naruto — so it was something he quite enjoyed. But, then again, no one ever seemed to treasure it as fully as he did.

"Ugh — this is _ridiculous."_

He snuck a side glance at Kiba, before shrugging a shoulder, choosing to continue reading his book instead of replying.

Kiba groaned, running a hand through his hair, Akamaru by his side. Absently, Kakashi wondered how long it took to wash that dog — blood would _definitely_ be difficult to get out of white fur. It might not stain, of course, but it would certainly take some scrubbing. "Do we _really_ have to stop every few minutes? No one's following us. Neji _said_ so."

He smiled, behind his mask, "It's a precaution."

"It's _stupid_," Tenten agreed, tucking her kunai back within its pouch, before folding her arms across her chest — she raised an eyebrow haughtily, and Kakashi wondered, absently, when she'd gotten over that little crush she'd had; he'd overheard her talking to Ino and Sakura about it, a long time ago, when the whole bunch of them were still small and cute.

Looking at the three of them, he decided none of them were small and cute.

Not anymore.

"It's _necessary_," Kakashi said decisively, before letting out a resigned sigh, snapping his book shut and placing it within his pocket — he turned to his team, hands in pockets, and looked at each of them in turn. Then he sighed again, eyes flickering upwards, before he began to speak. "Listen. Anko — and let me repeat that, just for emphasis; _Anko_ — has gone missing. It's highly likely she was seen at the village we're heading towards, as it would have been midway through her likeliest route home — and, as far as we know, we could be up against anyone. Any_body. _The Akatsuki, most likely — and so we've got to be careful, okay? Whether that means stop-starting, walking along back-to-back with our eyes wide open, I don't care; we can't fully rely on Neji's byakugan, and Kiba's sense of smell, if we want to stay alive."

He realised, with a dawning sense of disgust, that he sounded like _Iruka._

"Just… we need to be _careful."_

The other three were silent for a moment, each regarding him with a different emotion — he sort of felt like a bug being inspected, scrutinized beneath three piercing gazes. He shrugged sheepishly, and his fingers itched towards the book in his pocket, when Tenten suddenly leapt forwards, throwing her arms around his neck, and letting out a high-pitched squealing noise which hurt his ears and made him wince. Neji, behind her, looked vaguely astounded and slightly dazed, as if she'd simultaneously punched him in the face — and Kiba merely shrugged a shoulder, tutting and loudly muttering, "_Girls."_

"Kakashi, sensei, you're so _cute,_" Tenten grinned, grasping his shoulders and pushing him backwards, "I almost want to pinch your cheeks."

"I'd rather you didn't," he replied.

She sort of deflated, taking a step backwards, and Kakashi felt a bit awkward — and just a tad mean. He shrugged again, this time smiling sheepishly, before gesturing for them to follow him, as he turned away; he didn't bother taking his book out of his pocket, this time. Instead, he simply walked.

"Come on — the village is just up ahead."

**.**

**.**

"_Are you doing the right thing?"_

The question rang in her ears, loud and clear. She'd never quite thought what she was doing could be considered the _wrong_ thing; she'd always seen it as helping someone else out — helping out friends. Helping out Sasuke. And, in a roundabout way, helping _herself_ out, as selfish as that might have sounded; with him, she had someone who had no choice but to listen, as she talked. It was listen or become lonely — and the selfish side of her basked in the constant attention. Part of her liked that she was the only bright colour in a bleak, bland world.

But that part — it _hurt. _

It hurt to think too hard about it, because she would then be faced with a second question — was she doing the right thing, but for the wrong reasons? Was she really doing this for Sasuke? Would she really, as kind as people might believe she was, go and visit a stranger — someone she'd never spoken to once before in her life — for fifty days, before his death, purely out of the goodness of her heart? Or was it because she had an audience, constantly, whenever she wanted? Was it because she was the only one, currently, filling his life?

Or…

Was it for Naruto? For Sakura?

Was it for _Sasuke?_

Even as she thought, she wasn't sure. She liked to believe — and she pretty much _wished_ — it was for the latter reasons, but she couldn't be certain; not completely and entirely. She couldn't quite tell the difference between her own feelings and the feelings of others — whether she was doing this for herself or for something — some_one_ — else.

"—Hinata!"

His voice was loud, and brilliantly so — it cut quite solidly through her reverie, and she found herself instantly smiling. Hinata blinked, turning around, her hands clasped in front of her — her eyes widened slightly, as she spotted Naruto walking towards her, one arm arching high above his head as he waved frantically, beaming from ear to ear; beside him, Sakura stood politely, her hair tucked behind her ears, smiling at her. She felt ever so slightly embarrassed, blushing a faint shade of pink as she thought of the dandelions and Naruto — and then as she thought of the harsh, horrid words she'd whispered to Sakura.

Still, she smiled as they approached, "Aa, good afternoon, Naruto, Sakura. How are you?"

"We're fine," Naruto replied, cutting Sakura off as she opened her mouth to reply, "We were just heading down to Ichiraku, for lunch. D'you want to join us?"

"I couldn't possibly i—intrude—"

"Please join us," Sakura said, and that was that.

Hinata nodded.

"O—okay."

The walk to Ichiraku's Ramen Bar was silent, and ever so slightly awkward — Sakura walked on one side of Naruto, eyes surveying the shops and scenery around her, humming softly beneath her breath, while Hinata walked on the other side, hands clasped in front of her, eyes trained on the ground below her. Naruto, between the two girls, was oblivious to the tension in the air.

He was his usual, bubbly, loud self.

And he only got louder, as Teuchi passed them each a bowl of ramen, upon seeing them, and claimed it was 'on the house'. The blonde let out a whoop of joy, before ducking forwards, tucking into the ramen as if he hadn't eaten for years.

Ramen with Naruto was always a wonderful thing, Hinata mused — she liked seeing people enjoy themselves, and whether it was during eating or not, she didn't mind. It was just, he became so _animated_ doing the simplest of things; every noodle he slurped seemed to twist and spiral in the air, and he'd finish with a triumphant grin, as if to show he'd beaten that noodle. Then his eyes would search the plate, for his next victim, and his chopsticks would snatch more noodles up — and the entire process would begin all over again.

It was entertaining to watch.

She only became aware of Sakura watching her midway through this, and her gaze flickered sideways, sneaking a glance at the other girl — she was leaning forwards, pink hair falling across her face as she twisted in her seat, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. She was watching both Hinata and Naruto carefully, and she felt her cheeks turn hot, almost instantly — she didn't like knowing eyes were on her. It was a fear that had stemmed from a very early age. Lack of confidence, Kurenai would have said.

Still, that didn't change the fact that Sakura was _staring_ at her, and she wasn't sure why.

"I never thanked you, you know," Sakura spoke, suddenly, and Hinata felt her heartbeat quicken, as if she'd just been caught doing something terrible, "For the things you said."

Absently, Hinata realised Naruto had paused in his eating, staring between the two girls sat on either side of him, shifting awkwardly and uncomfortably in his seat.

"It was r—rude of me—"

"—sure, at the time, it really stung," the other continued, as if nothing had happened. "I was sort of bitter. Angry. I wondered how you could even begin to _imagine_ what it could feel like, to feel this pain — like something's been torn out of you, and you'll never get it back. That's what it's like, I guess. And I just didn't — _couldn't_ — believe that you understood. I was so angry at you. And so sad. Upset at myself, because I _knew_ you were telling the truth. Because I knew I should be trying to step forwards, instead of flinging myself backwards."

A pause, and then—

"So, as much as I disliked you then, I loved you. You were the push I needed — you and… someone else. You both helped, I guess, and I never got to thank you. Because, if it weren't for you, I think I'd be moping somewhere right now. I think I'd never be able to take that unsteady step forwards and then move, one, two, one, two, until I'm full-out running again. And, I guess… I guess, Hinata, you're a really, _really_ wonderful girl."

Sakura smiled.

"So thanks a bunch. It really helped."

There was a moment of silence, as the words really sunk in for Hinata; she blinked once, and a small smile slipped across her face. She sort of still wanted to apologise, because she _had_ been cruel — she _had_ said too much, in her opinion—

"_I h—hate people who don't try."_

—but, for Sakura, that too much had been just enough.

"…I'm glad I could h—help."

Hinata's smile widened.

"And, for what it's worth, I think you t—tried your hardest."

**.**

**.**

The village was empty, when Kakashi and his three-man squad entered it — which was pretty much an instant bad sign. The houses were ransacked, burnt and in shambles; puddles of crimson blood splattered the floor, and there were bodies everywhere. Mothers turned away in horror, cradling their children, crying tears of fear and pain and _horror_, as they died. Father, holding rakes and staffs — mock weapons — as they attempted to fend off those who'd attacked. It wasn't enough, of course.

He jerked his wrist forwards, gesturing for his teammates to move out — Neji was first to do so, brow furrowed, as he moved across to the left, activating his byakugan instinctively. He moved slowly, cautiously, moving towards the first house — the roof still smoking, the walls only barely standing. He ducked inside, recoiling almost instantly; a woman and her two children lay stiff and cold, blood splattered up across the walls, bodies burnt to a crisp — she was cradling them, holding them close.

Absently, he thought a mother's love was stronger than any other.

He crossed to the wall, pressing his fingers against the red liquid, and his eyes narrowed; it was still warm. This massacre, it could have only happened barely an hour ago, at latest — at earliest, possibly ten to fifteen minutes before they arrived.

It was horrific.

Disgusting.

There were very few moments where Neji wondered if the life of a shinobi was something he'd wish upon any children he were to have, in the future, and this was one of those moments. They'd grow up and get used to this. As much as it hurt to look at all of this death, a part of him was numb to it — a part of him could block it entirely out, turn it into something different, distinguish the lines between him and his life, and them and theirs. Distinguish between him and this dead village.

So he didn't have to feel for them.

So his heart didn't have to bleed.

A distinctly female scream cut through his thoughts, and Neji jolted upwards, eyes wide with disbelief and something akin to fear. The scream came again, short, sharp and familiar.

"_Tenten!"_

**.**

**.**

Hinata pressed her fingers against her lips, hiding her smile, as she sat between Naruto and Sakura, laughing merrily at something he'd said. He was moving his arms, now, flapping them about as if he were trying to fly; his legs kicked outwards, and the stool behind him clattered to the floor — and those silly movements, coupled with the all-too hilarious story of when he first caught Jiraiya peeping on the girl's showers, almost tipped her over the edge. Her eyes crinkled shut and she laughed and laughed, until she felt she could laugh so more.

Until all of her laughter dried up.

She laughed and laughed and _laughed._

**.**

**.**

"_Tenten!"_

Neji moved forwards, springing instantly to his feet; he pushed past the door, ignoring the dead bodies behind him, and began to run in the direction of her scream. Earlier, he was quite certain she'd moved to check out the east side of the village, searching for survivors, but he was quite certain her scream had come from the south.

He wondered, absently, why he wasn't using his byakugan.

Raw panic, he decided, and activated it, glancing about him, easily pinpointing her familiar chakra signals — Kiba was closest, alongside Akamaru, and the pair of them were moving rapidly in her direction. Kakashi was next, just barely in front of him, and Neji cursed his luck; it seemed he would be last, as always, when it came to _anything_ to do with Tenten. He began to pick up speed, and his eyes widened slightly — the enemy, stood barely behind Tenten, seemed to be seeping directly out of the earth itself; it's chakra flowed downwards and outwards, disappearing into nothing, it seemed, lost to the ground below it.

Something slice through the air in front of him, and he only just managed to change direction, jerking easily to the left, before throwing himself backwards as the sword slashed outwards again. He recognised it, he realised, and his eyes narrowed; skidding to a halt, he slid into a defensive stance, eyes trained on his target — blue skin, and wild, electric hair; yes, once again, it seemed his foe was Hoshigaki Kisame.

It seemed Akatsuki _were_ involved with Anko's disappearance.

Or so he assumed, anyway.

The missing-nin smiled, flashing sharp, white teeth. "Where's your sensei, kid?"

"…elsewhere."

"You're out of your league," Kisame murmured, teeth still shining, and Neji decided he'd like nothing more than to rip each of those shining, mocking teeth out of the other's mouth, one by one, _painfully_, "Walk away while I'm still givin' you the chance, kiddo."

"…I'm not a kid."

"Don't assume I'm your opponent — _I _was just passin' through," the missing-nin's smile widened. "You're makin' silly mistakes, for such a mighty _Hyuuga. _You seem awfully _distracted. _If it's because you're thinkin' of your friends, then don't — they're probably all dead by now, 'cept that Kakashi. Madara wants information from him."

Neji narrowed his eyes. "…Madara?"

"Ah, yeah — long story short, he's still alive and kickin', and he has been for some time," Kisame paused, before waving, "Not that it matters what I say to you. You're goin' to be dead any second now."

"I think you're underestimating me."

"I don't think I am," Kisame replied, and Neji felt the first senbon thud into the side of his leg, ripping through tendons and striking bone.

He dropped to his knee, with a hiss of pain, wondering how he could have missed such a thing. Was he really that distracted? He only just managed to duck underneath the second one, fingers slipping into his pouch, pulling out a kunai; he sliced through the air, smacking the final senbon away, and pulled himself to his feet. Tenten's features flashed in front of his mind, but he pushed the thought away — he couldn't save her if he _died_ now, and so he slipped into a defensive stance, one arm above his head, the other down low in front of him.

Kisame regarded his stance with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, an eyebrow arching; he leaned casually on his blade, Samehada, opening his mouth to speak again, before snapping it shut. He seemed to consider something — then, without hesitating, his hands gripped Samehada firmly and he launched himself forwards, swinging the blade heavily.

Neji knew, from the first moment, that he had no chance of beating Hoshigaki Kisame.

He wasn't so arrogant as to believe that he might win the battle; no, that would be a ridiculous thought. He just needed to stall for long enough — long enough for Kisame to leave — but his thoughts weren't solely on that missing-nin, either; the senbon had come from around ten metres away, he judged, in distance, for them to have hit him at approximately that angle. Whoever the other enemy was, he didn't care; as long as they stayed out of the battle, he would be fine — still, somehow the other was managing to mask his chakra, and that was something Neji didn't like. No, he didn't like it at all.

It was unfair.

Samehada sliced through the air, just scratching his arm, and he let out a low hiss of irritation, landing awkwardly on his bad leg; he felt some of his chakra leave him, just the tiniest bit. He felt himself grow wearier. He swayed, only just managing to keep balance, and then he was throwing himself backwards again, as Kisame lashed out again, punching wildly. He wasn't even trying. Neji narrowed his eyes — what an _insult._

He span, pushed his arm outwards, palm flat, fingers pointed — he saw Kisame's eyes widen, only just managing to move his head out of the way; but a thin, narrow line of blood still appeared, as the chakra scratched his skin. Neji was barely given a moment to savour his small triumph — exactly four senbon thudded into the crook of the elbow of his outstretched hand, and he let out a hiss of pain, wincing as he pulled his hand back towards his body.

He stayed where he stood, panting.

There was a moment of silence.

"You're stubborn, kid," Kisame frowned, one finger gently pressing against the stem of blood steadily flowing from the scratch on his cheek — deeper than he'd first thought, it seemed, "Give up and _die."_

Neji chose not to reply, instead slipping back into his defensive stance; this time, his left arm — usually raised high above his head — hung limp and useless by his side. He narrowed his eyes, grit his teeth, let the pain wash over him and then held his head high. He was a Konoha shinobi. He needed to save Tenten. And he wasn't…

He wouldn't be stopped _that_ easily.

"Stop bein' so noble," the other sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before swinging Samehada up and over his shoulder. "Finish this off, would you, Kabuto?"

Kabuto—

Missing-nin. S-rank criminal. New member of the Akatsuki, apparently.

Neji didn't really get a chance to remember anything more about the other, because there was a sudden spurt of pain — blinding, aching, _horrid_ pain — and then he was falling, slipping into blackness, dropping to his knees. Senbon sunk deep within his skin — every surface that could be seen, bar his neck and face, as he'd thrown his hands upwards at just the last moment. The world around him was spinning. There was blood. His body ached. Everything — _everything_ — burned; and his entire body seemed to be closing, shutting, switching the lights off — but his mind was so alert, to every movement, to every burst of pain.

The last thing he saw, as the world faded to black, was the black-and-red coats of the Akatsuki.

And a swirling orange mask.

A single crimson eye.

Then—

_Nothing._

**.**

**.**

Hinata made her way slowly towards Sasuke's cell, still chuckling, the last remnants of laughter still fresh on her lips — she passed Ibiki with a wave, as he gestured for her to just wander on through, and she realised she practically knew her way down to Sasuke's cell. She only made one wrong turning, and that was because she hadn't been concentrating; but, other than that, she made very few slip ups, and she was still in a good mood, even as she made her way past the unsmiling ANBU — familiar to her now, even to the tiniest detail — and placed herself down in front of Sasuke.

He peered down at her.

"…you're happy, today," he murmured, finally, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Of course," Hinata replied, and her smile was so wide that he gave in, and offered her a small, tiny, fleeting smile in return, "I don't have any reason _not_ to be h—happy. It's been raining a lot, recently, but it cleared up for today — and I s—spent all lunchtime eating free ramen. I've no reason to be _u—un_happy."

"Is that so?"

"It is," she nodded, "I'm in quite a good mood."

"I can see that."

Hinata paused for a moment, before peering at Sasuke, pursing her lips. "…what's _your_ happiest memory, S—Sasuke?" She asked, after a moment, before blushing beetroot red — more like the Hinata he knew, he mused — and pressing her fingers together nervously, "Of course, you d—don't have to answer, if you don't want to. I just thought it'd be a nice thing to talk about…"

"Memor_ies_," Sasuke corrected.

She waited for him to collect himself and continue; for a second, he seemed lost in thought, gazing past her at the wall opposite. In those few seconds, she mused that he was perhaps the most peaceful person she'd seen, just for a little while. He was no longer frowning; his lips were slightly parted — it was an almost dazed expression, and she liked it. It suited him, she thought. She'd like to daze him more often.

"I was pretty young, I remember," he began, finally. "But, then again, I was always pretty young. My brother, he used to — I used to go training with him a lot, and I used to end up tiring myself out pretty quickly. Afterwards, he used to press his finger against my forehead, right between my eyes, and then… and then he'd pick me up and put me on his back. And we'd just walk along in silence. I used to have my hands looped over his shoulders, resting across his chest, and I used to imagine I could hear his heart beating in time with mine. And I figured, at that young age, that we'd never be apart."

He paused.

"He was my big brother, after all. We could… _never_ be apart, right?"

There was silence again, and Hinata smiled gently, prompting him, "You said _memories_, not memory."

"I know," he replied, with a small frown, "I've got three. The second — it's a photo. We took it as Team Seven, ages ago; I kept mine, as stupid as it sounds. I kept it in my pocket, for ages, and then, every now and again, I'd just look at it. It might not seem like it, Hinata, but I guess I always wondered whether I'd done the right thing. I never asked anyone, never said anything, but I always wondered — wondered whether I'd just stumbled and tripped through my life, making mistake after mistake."

"I don't think you did," Hinata said, her voice quiet, as she tried to find the right words, "But you were y—young; and we're all foolish when we're young."

Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"_You _weren't."

Hinata blinked, taken aback. "…I w—wasn't?"

"Of course you weren't," he continued, with a smirk, "You were as polite and well-mannered then as you are now, and that's a fact."

"You didn't know me."

"I know you _now."_

Hinata blinked again, before giggling, eyes crinkling with laughter, smile widening — brightening up the room, Sasuke imagined. Like sunshine, trapped within a cell. She was so bright, so beautiful, so _wonderful. _He wanted to touch her, then — because he was certain that brightness would swallow him whole. And he would forget.

With her, she made him remember — but she also made him forget.

She was sunshine, he figured, personified.

"I guess you do," she giggled, and he chuckled, matching her laughter — and their eyes met, just for a fraction of a second, and nothing could bring them down from that high, as they laughed and laughed and laughed — and they didn't even know what they were laughing at, at the end of it. They were just laughing. Because they could.

Because they had no reason not to.

**.**

**.**

—_the._

There was nothing.

Just blackness.

And _pain._

—_eathe._

It was all fading away, in what felt like seconds. Everything — glimpses of his life. A smiling face, pale-skinned, lilac eyes — _Hinata. _Sunshine hair and blue eyes, and such wondrous laughter — _Naruto. _Dark, ink-black hair, wide eyes, and as green as the grass — "Never give up!" — _Lee. _And…

And…

Brown hair, brown eyes, a smile.

—_Breathe._

"…Tenten."

Finally, Neji opened his eyes.

Because, even if he died, he had to save her.

**.**

**.**

"What about your cousin?" Sasuke asked, finally, once the laughter had died down. "Weren't you worried, because you never said goodbye?"

Her smile faltered.

He hastily hurried to amend his mistake, "But — but I'm sure he's fine!"

And Hinata smiled.

"…of course he is. You're right. N—Neji… Neji's _strong. _He's the strongest person I know. He's the b—bravest person I've met. He's been through so much and he's… he's _changed. _And that shows that he can be something b—bigger than even Naruto, I think… And…"

She trailed off.

Her smile was so bright, Sasuke felt his heart would burst.

"He's a _survivor."_

**.**

**.**

Kneeling over Tenten, he felt as though his heart might burst; she was breathing, but barely — her arm was broken at three different points, and there were rips in her clothes; through them, he could see red, raw cuts. They looked awful. Too bright, he thought, and he wondered, absently, which of them had been carrying the bandages; if it were Kakashi, he might just give up then and there, but he dragged himself over to Kiba anyway, to check the other's pulse and backpack. The boy was breathing, and seemed in a slightly more ragged state than Tenten, but Neji still couldn't bring himself to see to him first.

He snatched the other's backpack away, heading over to Tenten, and emptied the contents onto the floor; he snatched up a cleaning ointment and set to work cleaning the wounds he could see, bandaging them once he was certain the dirt had been removed. He worked steadily, patiently, despite the fact that his entire body was singing in protest. Once he had finished with Tenten, he pulled himself over to Kiba, repeating the process all over again.

Kakashi was nowhere to be seen.

No doubt they'd taken him, then, for interrogational purposes. Or to prove a point. Whichever.

He paused only once, to yank a stubborn senbon from his side.

Then, when he was completely finished, he glanced around, searching for Akamaru — he placed his fingers to his lips and whistled once, shrilly, as he'd seen Kiba do before. Then patiently he waited, legs crossed, absently bandaging one of his own wounds; Kiba had no doubt sent Akamaru away, if the other weren't by his owner, and the big dog finally appeared, heading into the clearing with a whimper, tailed tucked between his legs.

Neji smiled wearily. "…s'alright. It's only me."

The dog tilted its head, gazing at him with wide eyes.

"…you mind carrying these two?" He found that he was slurring his words, and wondered if he was going to pass out. "…s'just, I'm not feeling as good as I thought I would, and we need to get as far away from here as possible, 'kay? Akamaru?"

He probably imagined it, in his dazed state, but the dog winced.

Then Neji set about lifting the two onto the beast, first gripping Kiba by his armpits and dragging the other upwards. It was tiring, gruelling work, and he found that quite a few of his wounds began to bleed anew. He didn't waste any time trying to bandage them or stem the flow of blood. Instead, he merely continued as he was, until both Kiba and Tenten were upon Akamaru's back, and then he was forced to sit down.

Absently, he realised his hair had spilled out of its band.

It stuck to his face.

"We're goin' to walk for as… as far as we can, 'maru," Neji spoke, finally, panting, "An' when I pass out, you're goin' to keep running… You're going… goin'… going to get to Konoha. And only when you're there, and these… these two are safe — only then can you come back, 'kay?"

The dog whined.

"Promise?"

Akamaru seemed to nod again, barking once.

Neji pressed a hand against his forehead. "I'm talking to a _dog. _This is probably what it feels like to be slowly dying, then."

Funny, that.

He'd felt this once before.

Except, he'd been younger then, and he'd been chasing after Uchiha Sasuke.

Always chasing after someone else.

And he was going to die young.

Life was unfair.

He pulled himself to his feet, pressed his hands into his pockets, and then began to stagger slowly along, Akamaru behind him. He began his walk, bleeding, shambling, a _mess_, and, absently, he wondered when he would finally collapse. When the pain would become too much. He wondered if he'd made the right decision. Should he have gone after Kakashi and died valiantly, or should he die like this, fleeing back to his home, tail between his legs, dignity lost?

Screw dignity, Neji decided, and he began to walk.

**.**

**.**

"_Are you doing the right thing?"_

_Hinata blinked._

"_I think so. I think… I think I'm saving his life. For fifty days, at least."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**notes**2**: **the end was referring to shino's earlier question & hinata's answer, if you didn't get it. :)


	17. day 17

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication:** thanks to akaiichigo, rose zaki, qial & izusu-chan! many thanks to everyone else, too; especially to everyone who's checking this out for the first time!

**chapter: **17/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

Hey, here comes another chapter; I've deleted a couple of stories I wasn't happy with, so I'll probably be able to focus on this a little bit more than I have been doing, recently. Can I just say, I'm loving all the support for Neji; you guys, and my inner fangirl, are the reason he's still holding on for another few chapters. Or was that a trick, to make you think I'm going to kill him off when I'm secretly not going to? Or am I going to kill him off? Who knows? Not even me, currently! ;D

Also, I need some help! I need someone to brainstorm with; a fellow SasuHina fangirl, who's also relatively into Death Note or Bleach. I've had ideas for stories for all three of my favourite fandoms, but I just need someone to talk them through with. Which, in all fairness, probably means there'll be another SasuHina fic on the way, since I'm absolutely in love with this pairing at the moment. Also, I've got another poll up on my profile, so please, check it out!

AND, NNGH, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY ON THE 9TH! 8D

Hope you enjoy this chapter; thank you for the 406 reviews, too, you guys are just plain awesome.

_briony, x_

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Tsunade pressed her head in her hands, gazing down at her desk — she traced the contours in the wood with her eyes, a slight frown across her face; her brow furrowed as she thought, and her eyes moved to the sake bottle perched on her desk. It stood tall and proud; it was a cream bottle, bought for her by Jiraiya — and she felt a twinge of sadness at his name, a lump in her throat, anger in her heart —, and she'd kept it ever since. There was a long, jagged crack running down one side, where it had tumbled off her desk and crashed to the floor — she'd spent hours gluing it back together, wanting it to be perfect and ending up with a jigsaw mess of broken pieces.

When she'd returned to her desk in the morning, she'd found it fixed beautifully, with only the slightest of cracks running down the side. She'd never thanked Shizune for it — instead, she'd given her the day off and slipped a small amount of money into the other's purse. She wasn't good at thanks — it was a pride thing — but Shizune had understood what it meant.

Now, however, she found her thoughts straying from the sake bottle; she found herself thinking of the one thing that had made her slump her head in despair. Only three days ago, she'd sent four of her best shinobi on an easy mission — C-rank, at most — and, yet, none of them had reappeared; she had not expected them to take so long. Sure, there might have been one or two hiccups along the way; they were a mismatched band, who weren't entirely suited for each other — she had wanted to solely send Team Gai, but Lee and Gai hadn't returned from a previous mission, and so she had been forced to piece together available shinobi. She had been relatively pleased with who she'd turned up.

She turned, gazing out the window.

If there was one thing that was certain to calm her thoughts, it was the sight of Konoha in the early mornings — _her_ village, only just waking beneath the glow of a yawning sun. Outside, she could hear the first calls of a working day; the rattling of shop windows opening, the dull spattering chatter, the first calls of a soon-to-be busy market. People she knew and people she had yet to meet roamed the streets; their _own_ lives, and she could see a tiny glimpse of it, from way up high. Beneath the early morning sky, each one of them would flicker into life — and she would see it all, like a wave.

Now, it wasn't quite enough to calm her thoughts.

Behind her, the door slid open as Shizune entered the room.

"Lady Tsunade, you have a message from the Council," her voice was low as she entered the room; no doubt she'd been given the message personally, then, "They'd like to meet with you, tomorrow afternoon — another meeting discussing Uchiha Sasuke. They believe — they believe you aren't getting _results_; that you're all talk, and you have nothing to show."

"The old farts," Tsunade scowled, angered at the interruption — at the moment, it wasn't important; she was worried about the Akatsuki — because, if her team didn't return, what could that mean? That they _were_ planning for something? And for _what? _War? "Although, I do have matters I need to discuss with them. This could have come at a better time, but now is better than never, I suppose."

She clapped her hands together.

"Tomorrow, then — you'll have to remind me, Shizune; I wouldn't want to be late."

Her assistant nodded once, and the room fell silent. It was a tense, awful silence, making the air around them feel tight; Shizune found herself fidgeting slightly, hands clasped in front of her as she gazed at Tsunade — her sensei, in a way. She would have bitten her lip had she not broken the habit long ago, and she found herself wanting Tonton to hold and squeeze — her pet always offered her a sense of security, of comfort, when she was feeling worried, and the look on Tsunade's face was most _certainly_ worrying her.

In turn, Tsunade frowned.

"Back — they should have been _back_ by now."

It took Shizune a moment to figure out what Tsunade was talking about but, when she had, she nodded once, sharply. "I know, Lady Tsunade. Should we send a team out to meet them?"

Tsunade frowned, considering the thought.

"…and lose more shinobi to the Akatsuki?"

She shook her head.

"They've got until sunrise — then, and only _then_, I'll send out a team to meet them."

**.**

**.**

Hinata brushed her fingers against her lips, lying upon her stomach on her bed, book open in front of her; it had been a long time since she'd just simply _read_, and she realised she'd missed doing it. When she was younger, she would read anywhere and everywhere — all the time! She would sit beneath the rose bushes, the old twisted trees, on the fields, in her room — on her father's lap, even, once upon a time — and she would simply read, turning page after page, painting a story in her mind and a picture in her heart.

Her pillows lay rumpled by her sides, tossed out of the way so that she could lie down fully; her blanket was sort of half sprawled across her body, and thin rays of sunshine were shining in from her open window. It was all so perfect — so brilliant — that, for a second, her eyes strayed from her book and she found herself simply smiling, giddy with happiness; but, as nice as that feeling was, she didn't understand _why. _This happiness tingled through her, a pleasant warming sensation, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what had caused the feeling — not her book, that was for sure. She'd read the thing over and over again, since she was young, and so it was more a book of memories than an actual story for her — and while that _did_ make her smile, it just wasn't enough.

The sensation was overwhelming.

She couldn't pinpoint the source, not yet — maybe not ever — but that was fine — this feeling was enough. It made her want to _move. _She pressed her book closed, swinging her legs up and over the side so that she was sitting up—

Beneath her bed, unknown to her, the letter from Neji lay closed and silent. An envelope of whispered secrets.

—and she stretched, arching her back and bringing her hands up over her head. She was still dressed in her pyjama shirt, having changed her trousers earlier that day — after all, she'd convinced herself that she _was_ going to get up, and then she'd spotted her childhood book, and she'd simply lost herself. Forgotten.

Now, however, she made her way over to her wardrobe, tugged out a shirt, and then disappeared into the bathroom. She was washed and dressed in minutes, hair hanging lank and limp over her shoulder — she wrinkled her nose at it, before reaching into a nearby basket and pulling out a clasp. It was a pretty silver thing in the shape of a blooming flower — Neji and Hanabi had scraped the money together to buy it for her last birthday, and she'd been so overjoyed at such a pretty present. She hadn't been able to wear it much, as she was a kunoichi — but that had hardly mattered to her.

Some things were too beautiful to be seen.

Still, she twisted her hair up onto the back of her head, in a messy bun, and then pressed the clasp into her hair. Strands almost immediately fell free, but she made no effort to pin them back — for a little while, she was just going to let that happiness overwhelm her. No control. Not even over a few messy strands of hair.

Just that feeling.

She made her way over to the door, fully dressed now; at first, she was uncertain of where to go and what to do, but she figured she might as well just walk through town for a little while. She would find someone to talk to, if she wanted to — after all, Shino was just around the corner, and he very rarely left his room, except for training and shopping necessities. But she wouldn't plan ahead, not today — she wanted this lack of control to continue, if only for a little bit. And so she simply waved at Hanabi as her sister passed, making her way to the door, pausing only to grab her coat — she tugged it on as she was leaving, a little disorganised ball of mess heading right out into that market.

She walked with her hands tucked into her pockets, a small smile across her face, nodding to those she knew — she stopped briefly to talk to Ino, although that was more because the other girl had gripped her wrist and yanked her over. Beside them, Shikamaru stood yawning, but he nodded when she said goodbye and smiled a little as he waved; absently, she wondered if there was anyone better who could have known her secret — just her, Shikamaru and Shino; three of the quietest people in the world; one unsociable, one lazy and the other just too shy.

Yes, there was no one better she could have spoken too.

But she didn't let her thoughts stray on that matter for too long as, within moments, she was roped into another conversation, this time with Sakura and Naruto. The latter — loud and boisterous as always — was whining for ramen, while Sakura had coldly but politely explained that she was fed up of the stupid stuff and she wanted something _new_ to try. She'd been called in as referee or mediator or whatever, but had found herself roped into the argument within minutes. She'd listened to both of them, before creating a compromise.

"Sakura, if you eat ramen with N—Naruto today, I promise the pair of you can eat dumplings and rice balls with me, t—tomorrow," she said, with a smile across her face. "It'd be my treat."

Sakura looked sceptical, just briefly — her eyes flickered towards Ichiraku's Ramen Bar and then back to Hinata, and she raised an eyebrow, a small smile plastered across her own face. "I don't know…"

"_Please_, Sakura?" Naruto practically whined, his voice high-pitched, drawing out the please until it became a long, irritating squeal — but it wasn't enough to win Sakura over; she was having her fun, dawdling until the last possible moment, where her smile turned into a full grin and she nodded, holding out her hand.

"D'you promise? I don't think I can stand another ramen."

Hinata beamed at her, shook her hand once and nodded.

"I _promise."_

With that, Naruto had gripped Sakura's hand, dragging her off towards Ichiraku's, waving widely over his shoulder — his arm suddenly turned into a huge, swooping arc, as if he were trying to paint a rainbow in the sky. Knowing Naruto, he probably _had_ tried to paint a rainbow in the sky, and she stifled a giggle as she waved back. She barely stopped herself from squeaking as a hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she was twisted around to face this new stranger. For a moment, all she could register was _green. _Then her eyes managed to focus on a face, and she couldn't help herself from smiling, the initial shock wearing away quickly.

Opposite her stood Rock Lee, teeth sparkling as he grinned at her, stance extra-wide for no real reason — out of Neji's team, he was the one she understood least and had talked to least, but couldn't help but instantly like. He was a beacon of pure, unadulterated sunlight — like Naruto, but refined and polished, wrapped up like a little green parcel.

"Hyuuga Hinata," he spoke, with a grand flourish. "I have just returned from a tough and gruelling mission, only to find that I seem to have misplaced my teammates."

He sobered up, then, tilting his head.

"How long have they been gone?"

With a frown, Hinata realised she didn't automatically know the number of days Neji had been gone — normally, she would have been able to tell someone immediately, but today… No, ever since he'd gone without her saying goodbye, he'd been pushed to the back of her mind; no worry spared for her cousin; he was a big boy now, he could stand by himself.

But still…

"Three days, Lee, including today," she said finally, troubled frown vanishing.

"Do you know what type rank the mission was?"

"Ah…"

She tried to remember whether Shino had said. They'd spoken for a little while about it, after her initial shock, but she couldn't quite recall… She shook her head. Her features fell.

"I'm sorry — I can't r—remember."

Lee's smile vanished briefly, replaced with a troubled expression as he thought of his teammates — both Tenten and Neji, _gone. _Usually, if he were away when they left, Hinata would tell him what rank their mission was; that was usually enough to appease him. Anything below a B-rank, and he would sleep comfortably — but A-rank… Like every shinobi in the village, if he found out a close friend was on a life-threatening mission, then he would be awake each night, waiting and wondering and _wishing._

But now…

He realised that she'd mentioned Shino — and although he wondered why it was that boy would know, he still decided he'd go and check by the other's house, just to ask. Hinata, in front of him, looked a little bit heartbroken, so he smiled, patted her head once. "Don't worry about it, Hinata — I'm going to go and see Shino; when I'm done, I'll come and tell you," then, with a flourish and an exaggerated thumbs-up, he flashed another twinkling grin, "And that's a _promise!"_

All these promises — it was really beginning to hurt Hinata's head. Speaking of promises; she would have to visit Sasuke soon. So she nodded, happy spirits renewed again, and grinned her own Hinata-grin to match Lee's; she waved at him as he left, and then turned away, pressing her hands into her pockets and biting her lip. Her eyes, pale and distant now, turned up to the sky above — nothing but pale blue, a few wisps of clouds scattered here and there — and she heaved a sigh. The happiness was still there; it had dimmed, now, though — and, absently, she realised she wanted to talk. She didn't want this lack of control, not anymore — she didn't want to spontaneously bump into people — to jump from feeling to feeling so suddenly that it made her head hurt.

She wanted something… _steady._

With a jolt of surprise, she realised she wanted to talk with Sasuke.

He was something constant, now; something she was coming to expect, to get used to — whether that was a good or bad thing, she didn't know. But it was something she enjoyed; something that made her heart flutter, just a few moments beforehand; which made that smile flicker across her face, fleeting, beautiful, _wonderful._

She wanted to see him.

A smile across her face, light blush spreading across her cheeks, Hinata made her way towards Uchiha Sasuke — because she wanted to see him.

And, overhead, grey clouds rolled in.

**.**

**.**

A bead of blood dribbled down his forehead, tracing a crimson touch down the bridge of his nose; there, it dropped to the floor, splattering across the ground like paint. That droplet was followed by another, thick and fast, oozing from jagged, raw cuts — _slices_ through his skin. Three of his ribs were broken, as were both his arms and one kneecap — every finger on his left hand was cracked and twisted out of shape. His feet were left relatively unharmed; he knew, he spent enough time bent over and staring down at them, as he attempted to regain his breathing.

Another droplet of blood splattered across the ground.

Hatake Kakashi figured he was going to die.

It wasn't all that fair, really; he was a shinobi, sure, but, like all shinobi, he'd hoped to go peacefully, preferably in his sleep. That was a dream, of course — it had always _been_ a dream. He hadn't been beaten, not really, and so he shouldn't have been captured; he shouldn't have allowed this, but when he'd arrived on the scene, he'd found Tenten broken and Kiba breaking, and he'd seen red. Every person he'd lost had flashed in front of his eyes — Obito, Rin, Asuma, _Sasuke_ — and he'd lost himself; attacked stupidly.

Lost instantly.

Not that he'd have expected to beat Uchiha Madara whether he'd been thinking sensibly or not; that man was completely out of his league. He raised his eyes, then, silver hair flopping down into his face, streaked red with blood — his face was relatively unharmed, really, but he coughed, and blood bubbled between his lips. Internal bleeding, no doubt. Unfair. He'd wanted to see if Naruto really could become the Hokage. He'd wanted to see Sakura grow and grow and _grow_ some more. He'd wanted to see them both marry. Maybe have children.

Or, at worst, he'd wanted to be there for _their_ funerals.

Fucking _irony._

In front of him, Kisame flexed his fingers, waving them slowly in front of his face before grinning; sharp teeth like a jigsaw puzzle of broken glass, "He's completely out of it, Madara. An' he's not givin' us anythin', anyway — what do you want me to do with him?"

A voice from the darkness.

Like a _ghost._

"I didn't expect the famous Hatake Kakashi to break so easily, anyway — we were _never _going to get anything from him. Have your fun and then _kill him._"

Kisame smiled again. Scooped up Samehada. Raised it through the air. Slicing, chopping, skinning, _dicing _— and it hurt and hurt and _hurt. _Had Kakashi not been protecting all the things he loved, all the people he dreamed about, Naruto and Sakura and Kurenai and _Sasuke_, he would have sang and sang and _sang_, like a fucking _canary_, just to stop the pain. But it hurt and hurt and hurt. And his bones ached.

He closed his eyes and the world ended.

**.**

**.**

Sakura pressed her head in her hands, smiling at her friend — at Naruto —, trying not to show her boredom; they _always_ went to Ichiraku, and it was beginning to get dull. Still, Hinata was a nice girl, attempting to think of a suitable compromise, but that only put the problem off; after tomorrow, Naruto would want to be back at Ichiraku, stuffing his face with ramen, and eating and _eating_, much like he was doing now.

Still, at the moment, she wasn't that bothered.

She was basking in happiness; just a small amount — not enough so that, when it was torn away from her, she'd wallow in unhappiness, but enough to make her smile at nothing. At birdsong. At the way Naruto's hair seemed to shine in the sunlight. He looked up at her, then, raising an eyebrow — a piece of noodle hung from his cheek, as he lowered the ramen bowl, looking altogether a bit cautious.

"…what's the matter? Do I have something on my face?"

She laughed then, reaching forwards to remove the offending noodle, but Naruto ducked backwards, obviously expecting something worse. There was a flurry of movement and limbs, and then a crack cut through the air — the sound of something breaking. She blinked, glancing down — the drink she'd ordered lay broken across the floor, smashed, fragments spiralling across in all directions. Water seeped across the ground; and, within moments, there was a small puddle of it, which was soon soaked up into the cracked, dry ground beneath it.

She suddenly felt sad.

It was a scary sadness — the same sadness she'd felt when she'd seen the glass tomato, all those days ago. It was a longing and a want, mixed up with anger and hatred and complete _sadness_ — it made her heart ache, and her head hurt as she tried to think of _why. _Why this feeling had suddenly come to her. This sadness. Naruto must have seen it in her eyes, because his own brow furrowed and he slapped a couple of coins down onto the counter. "Ah, we'll pay for that — _sorry_," she distantly heard, but it meant nothing to her.

Gazing down at the broken, jagged pieces of the cup, Sakura wondered what else had broken — and if she could ever fix it again. And, when she looked up, she thought she saw someone who couldn't be there — a shadowy figure, waving and smiling — before he was gone, disappearing as quickly as that.

"Sakura, are you alright?"

She blinked.

"…I think so."

**.**

**.**

Kakashi thought he saw them smiling — saw them waving — pink mixed with blonde mixed with black. He thought he saw the ghost figures, watching him and waving — one big, looping wave, one smaller, polite wave, and a simple raised hand, to finish it all off. He couldn't see their faces. They were too far away. But he saw they were there. They were watching.

—_good job, Kakashi-sensei. _

They understood.

—_you can stop now._

He closed his eyes.

**.**

**.**

Kisame raised Samehada above his head, in a final, swooping arc. He didn't really see a man there — he never did, anymore. He saw ghosts. Hundreds of them, staring and watching and _waiting_ — waiting for him to die. To exact their revenge. He saw ghosts, now. He supposed he'd see one more ghost tomorrow — a ghost with silver hair and a lazy smirk.

"Goodbye, Hatake Kakashi."

A lazy smirk.

He closed his eyes.

There was a splash of blood, a stain of red, and then _nothing._

**.**

**.**

Sasuke was sleeping when Hinata arrived.

It had been a fitful dream, full of colours he couldn't quite understand and people he didn't want to remember; his mother had stood smiling at him, her face crimson with blood, her hands stained black with sin — and she'd opened her mouth, lips stretching into a wide, clown-grin, whispering that she'd been a part of it. That she too, along with his father and the rest of the clan, had wanted to overthrow Konoha — power and power and _more power. _She said she'd bred them to be _monsters. _That he couldn't ever look back.

Then a katana had pierced through her heart, and there were his brother's eyes — red, swirling eyes that had haunted his nightmares for as long as he could remember, but this time they were crying. Thick, fat tears, sparkling like jewels — they splashed across the ground like blood. One, two; one, two — the tears fell quickly. He'd been transfixed by them, for a little while; and then he'd glanced upwards.

His mother and brother had vanished.

In their place stood his teammates — his old ones, Naruto and Sakura and Kakashi. They were waving and smiling, and he was, as much as it embarrassed him to do so, running towards them — as he ran, he grew smaller and smaller, becoming younger and younger, until he was a thirteen-year-old in his oversized white shirt, slipping off his shoulders. And, no matter how much he ran, the figures just grew smaller, moving further away — and, like a photograph, he could see the corners crinkling up. Kakashi's face burnt. Someone had cut jaggedly through Sakura's face. Naruto's eyes were sad.

When he woke up, she was sat in front of him, eyes wide with concern — he realised then that he was panting, chest heaving up and down, gazing at her with the frightened eyes of a small child. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. His hair clung to his face. Glancing down, he saw that his arms were shaking, their hairs stood on end, and he closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to change — to recover. When he was certain he was no longer shivering, he opened his eyes, lips tugging into a weak smirk. "…how long have you been there?"

Hinata smiled gently, "I only arrived a few minutes ago."

"So long enough, then, I suppose?"

She nodded, but didn't reply.

He closed his eyes again then, nodding weakly — it concerned him, how vulnerable he felt around her. She made him feel like he was somebody else; someone who could be understood and helped and cared for — with her kind eyes and kinder smile, she made him feel so fragile. Absently, he wondered how long it would be before she shattered his glass heart completely — before he threw down his walls and let her in. He felt as though, were he the type of person to do such a thing, he could tell her anything.

That worried him.

He was vulnerable — too vulnerable.

"W—would you like to talk about it?" She said, then, startling him ever so slightly.

His eyes snapped open — and she swore they span red briefly before fading into black — and he shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it, because that would equal more vulnerability, and he — he didn't _need_ that. All this bravado he put on for Tsunade, he needed to keep it up for Hinata, too — after all, she was still a Konoha kunoichi. He couldn't trust any of them.

But his heart still told him that was a lie.

"Would you like to talk about _anything?" _

He stared at her, for a second, before nodding. "…just _speak. _It's easier that way." When she opened her mouth to ask a question, he shook his head. "Talk about _anything_. And nothing. Everything. Please."

Anything to get rid of the uneasiness that nightmare had left him feeling.

Hinata's smile returned, "When I was younger, do you want to know what I w—wanted to be? Not a kunoichi; I don't think my dreams were ever big enough for that — besides, I was always told I was too small and fragile. I—I guess I still get told that now, sometimes, but… But when I was little, I wanted to be a _chef._"

She announced it as if it were the grandest thing in the world. He couldn't help but snicker. She frowned slightly, but she was still smiling, and he could tell she wasn't truly offended — still, he sent her a little apologetic look. He didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"It's _true. _I wanted to be a chef. I thought there w—was nothing grander than cooking food for everyone to enjoy; I used to play kitchens with my m—mother, when I was younger, and then I used to play it with Neji, if he were willing, before his father d—died. Before that, I suppose we were almost close. Maybe. He was a play-friend. But I used to bake them cookies and stuff, anyway, and s—send it over to them; and they tasted like _rocks_, but my father still made them eat every single one. He ate them all, too."

She giggled.

"I ate one once, and I was almost _sick."_

He couldn't help but chuckle again.

"When Hanabi got a little older, I used to try and make her play, but by then I was starting at the Academy — and, besides, she w—was far too old for nonsense games like that. It's probably why she's so s—serious all the time; my father said that mother wasn't to play with her, because… because that was what made _me_ soft, he thought. Mother wasn't happy, but she didn't argue — I don't think mother's really been happy ever since. But that doesn't matter. When I was little, I wanted to be a chef — but I couldn't really cook and my food was practically poisonous," Hinata paused, before grinning. "I'm better now, of course — I'll bring you in a d—dumpling, soon, I promise."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, "After that story, I think I'd better pass."

"I promise, they're _good!"_

She was pretty like that — leaning forwards, attempting to reassure him, with a slight blush across her face and a giggle in her heart; he was pretty sure even she knew that he wasn't likely to agree, but he surprised her, nodding once. "I've got nothing to lose."

She sobered up ever so slightly then, pressing her chin in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees — like that, she stared at him. Big, wide, white eyes, he thought — lilac in the light. It was probably true that she was too gentle to be a kunoichi, but, then again, she was too beautiful, as well — and he'd always thought Naruto was too stupid to be so strong, but just look at him now. He wanted to tell her that, but he was certain it would be uncharacteristic of him, and so he simply looked at her.

"What did you want to be, Sasuke, when you were younger?"

He smiled then — a true, genuine smile.

"That's easy — I wanted to be just like my brother."

Hinata tilted her head then, eyes never leaving his face, content; he felt almost like a story-teller, and hoped it was a good story to tell. "When I was younger, there was no one better than my brother — there was no one bigger or stronger or braver. We were close. I idolised him as only brothers do. He was my hero. He was utterly brilliant, and I could never bring myself to feel ill towards him, even when we fell out — but not only was I so transfixed, I was entirely jealous. There's only so long you can stare at the sun before your eyes burn, and you only feel resentment towards it."

He paused, then.

"…I can't remember how old I was, but I remember I was throwing kunai — trying to hit all the targets — and my father was watching. I hit all of them but two. Then he asked Itachi to do it, and my brother barely moved — didn't even lift his head up from the book he was reading, just flicked his wrist and hit them all. That was when I decided I wasn't just going to be like him, I was going to be _better_ than him."

He chuckled bitterly — and, staring at Hinata's wide eyes and gentle face, he felt the urge to explain.

"Even though he's dead, I didn't manage to surpass him. He wasn't at his strongest — he was _ill_ — _sick. _Slowly turning blind, coughing up blood every few seconds; when I fought him, he still had the upper hand, to begin with, and he wasn't even as strong as he first was. I didn't surpass my brother, I surpassed his _ghost_ — I'll always be stood in his shadow."

Sasuke fell silent.

For a few moments, the entire room was quiet, as he thought — and, in front of him, Hinata seemed lost in her own thoughts, too. Then, as quiet as could be, she stood up; she pushed back her chair and crossed the room as quickly as possible, reminding him once again that she _was_ a kunoichi, and then left. He couldn't stop himself from raising an eyebrow; that had been oddly abrupt. Around a minute or so passed and when Hinata didn't return, he closed his eyes.

There was nothing but silence, as he let himself remember; remember the fight, Itachi's death, his mother, his father, Itachi's final words, _Madara_ — let himself remember it all. He was so lost in his memories that he didn't hear the door click open again; didn't hear the soft footsteps across the room or feel the low pulse of chakra, followed by another door clicking.

He only opened his eyes when he felt soft skin touch his cheek.

Hinata smiled back at him, eyes gentle — he stared back at her, momentarily bewildered, before accepting it. He thought her hands were unnaturally soft for a kunoichi — pampered, no doubt. A girly habit. His own hands were calloused, the skin dry and cracked, scars reminding him of his triumphs and defeat — but, equally, he supposed it could be a Hyuuga thing; thinking of Hyuuga Neji, he couldn't help but feel that they were the type to moisturise their hands.

He wondered, really, why he was thinking of such silly things.

Probably all the drugs they give him_,_ he convinced himself, but he knew it was _her_ — Hinata did this to him. She made him feel weak. She made him want to turn back time and stop himself, before he went too far. With her gentle eyes and kind words, she made him want to tell her everything; every little secret he knew, and had kept for so long — she made him want to break all his carefully established rules. She made him feel oh so _desperate. _

But she made him feel so _safe_, too.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke let himself dream again, falling asleep to the warmth of her touch.

**.**

**.**

It was cold.

Unbearably cold — _too_ cold; it was almost as though the air were pushing at him, pressing him in and in and _in_, until he felt he would burst. Absently, he wrapped his arms around his chest, taking another step forwards; he very nearly fell, only just managing to regain his balance by wrapping a hand in thick, thick fur. Akamaru barked once, sharply, as if ushering him onwards — he nodded, swayed, almost dropped again; he'd lost too much blood. They'd started off running — racing forwards, back towards Konoha — and although he would wobble, although he would fall, he'd force himself to keep going.

Now, however, it was almost unbearable.

Now, with every step his head heart; a dull rushing sound would fill his head, and the sky would suddenly look as though it were below him, and the world would begin to swim. Now, with every step he would stagger, slipping in the mud, grabbing onto anything to keep himself upright; his hands were red and raw, from where he'd grabbed at bark, nails scratching across wood. Now, with every step he only wanted to _stop. _

Rattling, dry coughs tore through his body, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Beside him, Akamaru whined sharply — upon his back, Tenten and Kiba lay limply, breathing shallowly, bandaged badly; with a frown, he realised his own bandages were stained scarlet. He glanced back, briefly, over his shoulder — the ground behind him was spotted red with blood, like his own Hansel and Gretel trail through the woods. He would have chuckled, if it didn't hurt so much to even _move._

Hyuuga Neji was dying.

That was the cold, hard truth about it — his body was slowly failing him, because he was pushing far too hard. He no longer had the strength to continue the journey. He was bleeding too heavily. He was too weak. His hair, which had slipped out of its tie some time during his battle with Kisame, clung to his forehead, hot and sweaty and disgusting. Grimy. Thick with mud and, just maybe… blood?

Don't stop.

Don't think.

He forced himself to take another step forwards, resting one hand heavily against Akamaru; if he began a certain pace, he was undoubtedly sure he'd be able to keep going — one foot, then the other foot — one, two. One, two. One, two. And his breathing came in ragged pants. And he could barely keep his eyes open. And he could feel a thin trickle of blood dribbling down his forearm, over his elbow, onto the floor — drop, drop, drop. But he wouldn't stop.

He glanced across at Akamaru — at Kiba — at Tenten.

He _couldn't_ stop.

Placing one foot in front of the other, staggering along, Neji marched drunkenly to his death.

**.**

**.**

Tsunade placed her hands on the desk, knuckles tapping out an unknown rhythm as she gazed at the three shinobi stood before her — Aburame Shino, Uzumaki Naruto and Haruno Sakura. Three of her best, assembled quickly; she'd told them to take whatever equipment they wanted and needed, because she wasn't going to give them time to return to their homes. They'd complied silently. Now she stood staring at them, her brow furrowed, trying to think of the correct words to say.

"A few days ago, four of my best shinobi departed on a C-rank, at most, mission, and they haven't returned. Just a couple of days before that, I sent Anko on the same mission, and she too hasn't returned. As you can see, I fear the worst. Shino, you're in charge of this team — I want you to take these two and I want you to _find_ them."

He nodded. "Who is it we're trying to find, then?"

She pressed a file onto the table — Shino reached forwards, picked it up, skimmed briefly through it before lowering it to the wood again. He nodded sharply, jerkily, glancing briefly at his teammates, obviously trying to judge how useful they'd be if push came to shove. Tsunade wasn't going to give him that option — she raised a hand, pointing sharply, "_Go._"

They went.

"And let's pray you're not too late."

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**notes**2**: **so Neji still isn't dead, but R.I.P, Kakashi. I love you, but, let's face it, you should have died when Pein invaded Konoha. Just saying. ;D**  
**


	18. day 18

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **thank you to all of you! special thanks to atalkaz, who actually got me to hurry up and finish this chapter. ;)

**chapter: **18/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

D'you know what's incredible? You guys reviewed _one hundred times_ since the last chapter. And, because of that, you're incredible. Really, _really_ incredible. And I'm going to give you a gift. A new SasuHina one-shot collection, which'll tell a story — and each one-shot will be dedicated to one of you. And if I run out of one-shots, and there are too many readers, I'll start a new one — because I really and honestly want to say thank you.

I'm so sorry this chapter was so late coming.

Oh, one last thing. Last chapter, I sent Shikamaru, Naruto and Sakura out to find Neji & co.; for the purpose of this chapter, Shikamaru has been swapped with Shino. I made a stupid mistake, and forgot who was who for a moment. D:

Thanks a bunch, guys, you all make me so happy. :)

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**.**

One, two—

Neji took a lumbering step forwards, staggering almost instantly; his fingers sank into Akamaru's soft coat, tugging at the strands as he attempted to straighten himself, ignoring the low, warning growl the dog let out. When he was sure he could stand on his own, without having to support himself against his only conscious companion, he let out a shaky, wobbling sigh; beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and his back felt as though it were breaking — he was tired, aching all over. His hair fell into his eyes, strands clinging to his forehead and cheeks; he'd already taken off his forehead protector, as it was making him feel clammy.

He let himself sink to his knees.

This was a _mess. _

An awful, shambling _mess_ — the entire mission, he thought, had been one catastrophic mess, from start to finish; and now Kakashi was missing, and here _he_ was, a sight for sorry eyes, with two fallen shinobi sprawled across a faithful, but entirely shattered, dog. His hands were trembling, and he couldn't stand up straight, in case he toppled entirely over — he sucked in another long breath, and almost let out a helpless sob; he stifled it at the last second, pressing a hand against his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. His will couldn't break now — he wouldn't let it.

Akamaru let out a long, thin whine, nudging a wet nose against his shoulder, pushing forwards with just enough force to remind him that the dog was still there — that there was still work to be done — that they were _running_ for safety. Absently, he wondered how far they'd walked; he'd been keeping track of it before, he thought, but everything was blurring into one for him, now. They had to be more than halfway to Konoha, though, he was certain of that — there was perhaps only a third of the journey left. Maybe less. Maybe more. Still, if he were to drag himself to his feet now, he might…

Pulling himself jerkily to his feet, the world around him began to swim and his breathing became ragged — rattling and shaky, like skeleton bones, like the wail of a ghost —, and he searched around helplessly for somewhere he could rest. Gather his strength, if only for a minute or so. He managed to take a few steps forwards, towards a tree — ivy snaked around the trunk, dancing and flitting upwards like the wings of a butterfly —, where he let himself collapse, sinking to the ground once again.

Dully, he noticed his bandages were stained pink — they would need changing.

He closed his eyes.

Hyuuga Neji had never been quite as naive as Hinata.

It was both a blessing and a curse, really. He was called a prodigy, noted to be wise beyond his years — he had a sense of maturity about him, something of which others were surely lacking. He could pick apart the bones of a situation; and, after doing that, he would _understand_ it — he would piece it back together, carefully, gently, and he would think of a solution. Hinata had always thought it was as though the cogs in his head were whirring away at a different speed to everyone else; so much faster, so much sharper, so much cleaner. He was fast, sharp, clever; able to respond and adapt and change.

He was intelligent.

And, perhaps the best — or the worst — of all, he was _realistic._

He had always been bluntly realistic, he supposed, from the very day he was forced to stand on his own two feet, alone — from the day his father died, really. At that point, a part of him closed away; while he was still considered intelligent, he was only factually so — he could piece apart a puzzle, something which required logic and skill. That ability, coupled with his beliefs in the idea of destiny, had led to something akin to a lack of imagination — or perhaps that wasn't the right word for it. He could imagine, certainly; every child, no matter how old, no matter how mature, no matter how intelligent, _can. _He used to imagine the birds — he used to fly with them, free, with a _flock_ — with _friends._

He could imagine.

But, for lack of a better phrase, he was never quite able to think _outside_ the box; oh, he could think _inside _the box to the best of his ability, something Naruto was certainly lacking in. He was logical. Quick-witted. Intelligent. But, for one reason or another, he was far too realistic for his good, unable to fathom the idea that there could be something else — that there could be a 'what if'? That was, perhaps, the only reason he wasn't quite considered a genius, like Shikamaru, because he was able to see those 'what if's, and to work _around _them, whereas they were blind to Neji. He never saw them at all. He was realistic, and stubbornly so.

That's why, realistically, as he propped himself up against the bark of that old tree, Neji knew there was no chance of him surviving.

It was highly improbable that he'd get out of the situation on his own — he was injured, and moving for a great period of time would only serve to injure him further. Tired and running low on chakra reserves, he had no idea of where he was, and had been relying on Akamaru's judgement for a good part of the journey. There was every chance he was entirely lost. No, he was going to die there, against that tree, and that was that. There was, really, no use in forcing others to die with him, just for a little bit of company.

He opened his eyes.

He whistled, the noise scratchy and dry — Akamaru moved over, panting heavily, tired, and Neji offered him a small, tentative smile; something rare, Tenten would have said, had it not been for the fact that she was unconscious.

"…you…"

For a few seconds, he didn't know what to say — a lump stuck in his throat, and something stupid, something silly, about destiny and the inevitable floated through his mind —, and then another smile crossed his lips, and he shrugged wearily. All of a sudden, everything seemed clear — blissfully, wonderfully clear, and that _scared_ Neji. He could hear his heart thudding, hear the blood rushing through his body, hear the birds in the sky — each and every one of them, and everything was so…

_Clear._

"There's… there's no use in us all dyin' out here, 'maru. T—take Kiba and… _Tenten_… and find Konoha."

The dog let out another long, thin whine.

"When they're safe, you can… you can come back for me," he finished, before chuckling wearily — the sound came out as a gargle, and he couldn't help but feel ever so slightly worried, "But… but promise you won't—you won't come back until they're safe."

Had Akamaru been a person, Neji was sure he would have been frowning, with the look he was shooting the other — the dog let out a low, almost dangerous growl — _don't go dying, kid_ —, before taking off into the surrounding bushes. He listened to the sound of paws hitting dirt, of leaves and branches rustling, until he could hear it no longer, and then he let out a little sigh, closing his eyes and resting his hands upon his chest. He would have to wait. He'd always been a patient person, and so he would have to _wait._

**.**

**.**

Hinata rolled over onto her back, gazing up at her bedroom ceiling. Hanabi had knocked once on the door earlier, mumbling something about breakfast — but she'd looked weary, and that had momentarily confused Hinata; her little sister was _never_ sleepy. It was something she was quite jealous of, really; her sister had the ability to wake up bright and early, without batting an eyelid, and, within moments of opening her eyes, she would look almost the same as she always did. Hanabi was just naturally an organised person — a _morning_ person, really.

So when Hanabi had opened the door, yawning and rubbing her eyes blearily, her words slurred as she asked, "What time is it?", Hinata couldn't help but feel ever so slightly put-off. Not quite worried, really — there was nothing to worry about someone _yawning_ — but it was odd; a little bit strange, and something she hadn't been ready for. Everything was just ever so slightly off, she thought, and so she turned back over onto her front — Kiba was still on his mission, Shino was out training with his father, and her sister had left to do the shopping; and, frankly, Hinata had nothing to do.

She was bored — and, at times like these, when she'd been younger, she used to grab herself a book and sit outside to read.

She glanced up at the shelf above her bed, eyes scanning the different books for something worthwhile to read; most of the books she had in her room were books from her childhood, or collections of classic tales. If she wanted something new to read, she would sneak off to her father's study and take a book from there, when he was out — and, as far as she knew, he was most likely _in_ at the moment; and so she shifted herself forwards, so that she was almost directly beneath the bookshelf, and reached forwards. The tip of her middle finger snagged a hardback volume of an old comic her cousin had given her, and she inched her finger forwards, attempting to shift it off the shelf.

A minute passed, and she was beginning to give up — in a second, she'd stop being so lazy and she'd just grab the silly thing; but it was so comfortable on her bed, with the sun splashing in through the window, and she just didn't want to get up. She moved her finger again, grinning in triumph as the book shifted forwards — another pull, and it was almost entirely off. She pulled again, and it moved too quickly, slipping away from her outstretched hand and clattering down behind her bed.

Hinata let out a small sigh.

Well, it looked like she was getting up now.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, stood up and glanced once at herself in the mirror; she still hadn't brushed her hair, and it hung in knots and tangles down her back, messy from the amount of wriggling she'd been doing. Once she'd grabbed that book, she'd pour herself a bath — she'd sit and read for a little while, and everything would be fine. With that thought in mind, she knelt down upon her floor and scrabbled with one hand to find the book beneath her bed. After a few seconds, her face lit up in triumph as her fingers nudged against a hard corner — she pulled the object outwards, and then raised an eyebrow.

Her flower pressing book…

She hadn't even known she'd lost it, to be honest, but just seeing it brought a smile to her face. The beautiful handwriting on the front, all swirls and loops — girly handwriting, Kiba'd said, when he'd first seen it, but he'd shut up instantly when Neji walked into the room with a scowl on his face. She'd always thought it was such a simple, pretty thing, that little book — and, despite the fact that she often misplaced it, she _did_ love it. But she frowned slightly, fingering the corner of the book — one of the pages was coming loose, she figured; the corner was all dog-eared, sticking out like a flag.

She flicked the book open to that page.

It didn't belong.

Italic, cursive handwriting, each letter joined to the other and leaning slightly to the left; it was a letter, she thought, but it hadn't been there before. It was written in black ink. At the top, there was a date and her name; _Hinata_, with a comma afterwards and a space below. At the bottom, a name.

_Neji._

A lump grew in her throat.

This… She should have known her cousin wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. And, all of a sudden, she felt her eyes begin to water, and she wanted to slap herself — wanted to feel pain — because, through the past few days, she was almost certain she hadn't thought of him once. Perhaps a few times, maybe, but never — never anything serious. She hadn't stopped to consider — never could have thought — that maybe — maybe this time, the time she never got to say goodbye, the time she never once thought of him, the time when he was shoved to the back of her mind by thoughts of other people — that _this_ could be the time he—

She stopped.

Sucked in a deep breath.

Began to read.

**.**

**.**

_Hinata,_

_I came to say goodbye, but you weren't in your room; I suppose you were out again, keeping secrets. You're not quite as secretive as you think you are, I should add. I have noticed — you smile more, when you think no one's looking. You spend less and less time training, and more and more time elsewhere. As odd as it is, you look healthier. I never thought keeping secrets could be good for a person, but, for you, it seems to be adequate; and, really, I just wanted you to know that I will always be here._

_You will always be able to talk to me._

_Still, I doubt you would — it's probably a girly secret, something Tenten'd be better at understanding than myself; you have a sister for a reason, you know. That was a joke. I'm not entirely sure; there was probably some truth to it, I think. Some secrets, really, should be spoken — or, at best, written down._

_Anyway, the Hokage has requested my services for a mission; it's something simple, probably nothing more than a C-rank, B-ranked at most, and I'll only be gone for a couple of days. Maybe when I get back, you'll want to talk to me a little bit more. I have to say, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets — not that I ever really have that many secrets _to_ keep. Only girly things Tenten says, when she has no one else to talk to._

_Whatever._

_I'll be back in a few days. Remember, you can talk to me,_

_Neji. _

**.**

**.**

Short, sweet and to the point — just like Neji, Hinata thought, and her eyes felt watery, and she suddenly felt pathetic. She'd sort of thought he hadn't noticed, but he had, because he _cared_ about her — and she had barely thought of him, and who even _knew_ what could have happened to him. She pressed her hands against her face, wondering whether it was selfish of her to cry — to attempt to garner a little bit of sympathy.

She was wrong.

This was awful.

She felt guilty, and ridiculously so; she needed to do something, _anything_, to take her mind off things — because, at the moment, her thoughts were running around in circles, and all she could think was oh God, what if something _happened _to him, and she never got to say goodbye, and she'd never even thought of him, and oh God, oh no, would he forgive her? And even if he _did_ forgive her — because he would, she knew that, because she was his favourite cousin —, did she want him to? She wanted him to be angry at her, for just a little while; not silently disappointed, as she knew he would be if he ever — if he ever found out.

And all of it was bringing a bad taste to her mouth. The discovery of the letter, Hanabi's odd behaviour, her guilt — she wasn't one for signs, she never had been, but this…

This was strange.

Odd.

She placed the letter on her bed, thought better of it, folded it once and then tucked it into her jacket pocket, patting it once to be sure it was safe. She needed to walk around — clear her head, if only for a few seconds, so she could think; because, if she didn't think, she was likely to forget herself — to do something rash and silly and _uncharacteristic_, just like when she'd decided she was going to visit Sasuke, when she'd been arrogant enough to believe she could make one person feel better; that her presence would be enough to change someone, somebody, something—

No.

She sucked in a deep breath.

This self-pity, this self-_loathing_, was doing nothing.

Hinata pressed her fingers against her forehead, rubbing once in slow, soothing circles, before heading out the door — she needed to walk around, that was true, and she was going to clear her head. Dimly, she recalled arranging lunch for herself, Naruto and Sakura — and, so she would have to head into town, she knew that, and buy some ingredients. She'd prepare dumplings. She'd think for a little while, about what she was going to say to Neji — about how she'd greet him; she'd cook him herring soba. He liked that. She'd say sorry, and she'd hug him, and he'd blink in surprise, before patting her head and shying away uncomfortably, as he always did whenever anyone tried to hug him.

She barely noticed that she was crying.

**.**

**.**

There are certain women in the world who, when angered, become beautiful.

Shizune knew this — she had never considered herself to be one of those people, as she didn't have much of a temper to begin with. There were certain people who easily began to grate on her nerves — Hatake Kakashi was one of those people; he'd dined and dated her for a period of three days, before disappearing for a month — a _mission_, he claimed, the absolute _liar_ —, and it had taken two weeks of constructive therapy with Anko to make her feel better. And constructive therapy with Anko consisted of creating silver-haired voodoo dolls and sticking pins into their crotches.

Still, that meant nothing.

Through and through, she was pretty much a mild-mannered woman, able to contain her anger; she was soft-spoken and courteous, polite and diplomatic. It was one of the reasons Tsunade valued her so much — she very rarely snapped and, when she did, it was a tidy mess she created, something which could be cleaned up with a few choice words and a pretty little smile. No, Shizune was not beautiful when angered.

But Tsunade was.

Shizune noted this, as she leaned forwards, resting her chin upon the palm of one hand, unable to stop the smile from slipping over her face — her mentor, partner and _friend_ was truly wonderful when angered. Tsunade had never been one for keeping her temper in check. Whenever she felt a strong emotion, like anger or hatred, it would plaster itself across her face, and anyone in the general vicinity would easily be able to guess how she was feeling. She'd never been good, for as long as Shizune had known her, at hiding her feelings. When she was angry, she'd tense up, her entire body quivering, her hands balled into fists — and she'd look so strong, like a lioness. Beautiful and brilliant. Her amber eyes would glitter with such a fury that made her look several years younger.

She'd become beautiful.

Right now, as Shizune gazed down from the top balcony at the Council — stingy bastards, she thought; she was the Hokage's personal assistant, they could at least give her a front-row seat —, she thought Tsunade looked extremely beautiful indeed.

"This is _ridiculous_," her Hokage snapped, barely able to contain the contempt in her voice, as she gazed up at the other two Council members — Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane. "This is absolutely _ridiculous_, and you know it. What you're asking for is _unreasonable_. Don't you _dare_ try to pretend it isn't."

"We appreciate and understand your concern, Lady Hokage," Homura sniffed, the disdain evident in his voice, "But you aren't showing any _results—"_

"—we're missing four brilliant shinobi, the Akatsuki are out there, _somewhere_, and Mitarashi Anko hasn't been seen in several days, and you're busy worrying about Uchiha Sasuke and what little information he holds; _which_, for your information, there is no chance of us getting to. We've tried _your_ way. Yamanaka Inoichi was unable to obtain any information from the Uchiha. We've tried using brute force, but none of Ibiki's methods worked."

Tsunade paused then, if only for breath — Homura's mouth opened, but the look of fury he received from the Hokage silenced him instantly. Inwardly, Shizune let out a cheer of triumph; she too had grown tired of the old fools believing they could boss and bully her Hokage. When the Third had been in charge, they'd had similar methods of thinking — but Tsunade was far too headstrong.

She was going to get her way, no matter how long it took.

Absently, Shizune found her attention wandering from Tsunade and moving to a figure stood near the back of the hall, just next to the exit — Nara Shikamaru had always intrigued her, despite his age and lack of experience. She had never met a man quite as intelligent as him, and he couldn't help but remind her of Kakashi — lazy, unmotivated and sarcastic, he was only missing Kakashi's unique sense of time and perverted sense of mind. Still, he interested her — she'd only spoken to him occasionally and, on the times she had, he'd been accidentally dismissive, yawning or stretching when she spoke, gazing up at the clouds above as they walked along together, not even once offering to hold her files as she struggled to stay upright.

Still, his character wasn't what was interesting her now.

No, it was the odd little look he was offering Tsunade.

A small, knowing smile, she thought, and a silly little part of her mind thought that maybe they'd slept together — she'd dismissed the thought instantly, her features twisting into a pained grimace, causing one of people sat in front of her to raise his eyebrows in alarm. It _was_ disgusting, though; the idea of Tsunade having a sexual life, especially with a man so _young_, was awful. And now that she was thinking about it, she couldn't stop.

After a few minutes, she managed to regain her composure, snapping back to reality just in time to see Shikamaru turn and slip out the door — she stood up then, bowing her head in apology to the people sitting beside her as she shifted her way out of the row. She was, after all, going to figure out what was going on — what it was Shikamaru knew —, and she was going to have to be quick if she wanted to catch him on his way out. She made her way down the aisle, to the door, and then offered Tsunade a final, apologetic last glance — the older woman didn't notice it, of course, but it was the thought that mattered.

She'd be fine without her faithful assistant — this was a battle she could win on her own.

Shizune slipped out of the balcony in silence, taking the stairs downwards two at a time; her hand ghosted along the banister, and she'd hit the ground floor within seconds. She couldn't help but let out a childish, triumphant smile — she'd been quicker than she'd thought, and Shikamaru was such a lazy person that he naturally walked slowly — she'd catch him within seconds. And, sure enough, as she bustled along the corridor, she spotted him immediately, only a little distance away from her, and so she began to speed up.

He didn't notice her, even as she neared him, and she raised an eyebrow, before finally tapping him on the shoulder — he glanced lazily at her, lips turned down. "…don't tell me I've got _more_ paperwork," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead blearily, as if he'd only just woken up from a deep sleep.

She tutted, "_No. _Although, you do have paperwork long overdue."

"Troublesome…"

"You're lucky, then, that that's not the issue here," Shizune said, before clapping her hands together, coming to a stop — reluctantly, Shikamaru stopped with her, his expression cautious and ever so slightly confused.

"…what _is_ the issue, then?" He paused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, his lazy expression replaced with one of suspicion. "Am I in trouble?"

"Possibly. What do you know?"

There was a moment of silence, and Shizune thought perhaps she hadn't been clear enough — in retrospect, it _had_ been a very vague question, and she could see the confusion on Shikamaru's face. Although, she reasoned, if he truly was a genius, he'd be able to figure it out by her body language or the clothes she was wearing or something equally as silly and ridiculous. Just as she was opening her mouth to add to the question, a smirk passed across Shikamaru's face, and he stretched his arms behind his head, glancing at the ceiling.

"I don't think I can answer that."

Her eyes narrowed.

It seemed there was going to be another person she could add to her Really Annoying People list — his name could go just below Hatake Kakashi's. "…_excuse_ me?" She hissed, putting emphasis on the 'excuse', dragging out the 'u' sound so that it became beautifully long. "Elaborate."

He rolled his eyes, muttered something about troublesome women — which, thankfully, Shizune chose to ignore — and then stared at her, as if considering how to approach the topic. Then, carefully, thinking about each word before speaking it, he said, "Because… it's not my secret to tell."

She crossed her arms over her chest.

Thought for a moment.

Scowled.

"Could this secret, whoever's it is, negatively impact Konoha?"

It was a thoughtful question. She knew as much, because Shikamaru fell silent, tapping his chin once — no doubt his brain was figuring out every possible solution, searching for the answer. He was, she thought, a very easy man to read; or, at least, a lot of his mannerisms were very stereotypical of a young man put in an awkward situation. He was, as anyone would, searching for the best way out.

"No — it'll be troublesome, when it _is_ revealed to all, and it'll cause a little bit of disruption — but it won't hurt anyone. At least, not physically," he paused, counted something in his head, and then shrugged. "But if we're talking about mental, emotion, touchy-feely hurt, then yeah, I guess you _could_ say it'll have a negative impact. Maybe. Some people are difficult to predict."

A small, lazy smile slipped across his face.

Shizune thought for a second.

"That last sentence — some people are difficult to predict — that was about _Naruto_, right?"

He shrugged, began to walk away, signalling the conversation was over. She watched his back, a small frown creasing her forehead — and, just as he was about to turn the corner, he glanced back at her.

"It was about a _lot_ of people."

**.**

**.**

It took Hinata half an hour to realise Naruto and Sakura weren't coming.

She was stood in an empty kitchen, watching the dumplings rise, when her sister wandered in, raising an eyebrow; she spotted the herring on the side — discarded, because Hinata had burnt that one, so she'd needed to start again —, and had raised an eyebrow, no longer sleepy and yawning, back to her usual safe. "What's the occasion?" She'd murmured, nodding towards the dumplings, and Hinata had explained about the guests they had. Hanabi had given her a funny look, asked if she was alright — to which Hinata responded, yes, of course she was alright, how could she _not_ be —, and then wandered away, muttering something about crazy sisters.

After that, the dumplings had risen.

She'd placed them out on the table, in a little glass bowl — it was something her father had gotten her, when she was much younger and had been more into cooking. There was delicate detail of pretty pink flowers painted onto the sides, and the bowl had come with a selection of different small plates, but, over the past few years, they had broken, and the bowl was all that was left. She'd sat down at the table, waited as minutes ticked past, and then fretted by the front door. Then, when she was certain no one was arriving, she'd made her way back to the kitchen, feeling surprisingly numb at the idea that they might have stood her up.

(She was certain there was a valid reason for it — no, it wasn't like it was the _first_ time Naruto had stood her up, no, no.)

Now, she was sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, staring down at the tablecloth — her mind was whirring and ticking and speeding along so fast that her heart could barely keep up. Her thoughts flew from Naruto to Neji to Naruto to Neji—

(To _Sasuke.)_

—and she could barely stop herself from frowning. She looked up, staring at the dumplings in the bowl, before picking one up and taking a bite — they didn't taste right. Slightly off. A little bit bitter. She sighed, placed it back in the bowl, and then picked up the entire bowl — she made her way over to the bin, emptying them in, and then set the bowl back on the side.

That was when her heart froze.

There, down the centre of the bowl, ran a long, narrow crack, zigzagging its way down to the base, where it stopped matter-of-factly. She ran her finger over it, blinking — Hinata _swore_ it hadn't been there before, when she'd taken the bowl from the cupboard, and yet there it was, as clear as day. For some reason, it put a lump in her throat and made her swallow hard, once, twice, three times, eyes suddenly turning watery. It made her heart thump slightly too quickly — made her feel a little bit ill — and she stood up, abruptly.

Dropped the bowl in the bin.

Heard it shatter.

No, Hinata didn't believe in signs — but, if she had, she was certain this would have meant nothing good.

**.**

**.**

Sasuke was feeling ever so slightly tired, when Hinata burst into the room, looking flustered and extremely upset. One of the two ANBU actually looked startled, their stance turning tense as the Hyuuga entered — but, upon seeing who it was, both ANBU left, and Hinata sat herself down, the knuckles of her fists turning white with the strength that she clutched her legs. He was surprised, actually, at how miserable she looked.

There was barely a time when he _hadn't_ seen her smiling.

He wondered, absently, if that meant it was _his_ turn to do the cheering up, and if she were going to start _crying_ — and if there was one thing he definitely couldn't handle, it was someone, anyone, _crying. _

There was a moment of tense silence, as he surveyed her and she tried her hardest not to look up from the piece of ground she was staring intensely at; he stared at her, taking in her ruffled, messy appearance — her hair looked as though it had been brushed through quickly, roughly, and her nails looked as if they'd been bitten recently. Her body somehow managed to be tensed and relaxed at the same time, her shoulders slumped but her arms so rigid that he thought they might snap. He hadn't spotted any tear-tracks on her cheeks. He thought, maybe, she wouldn't start crying and he'd be safe.

Finally, he thought it might be okay to speak.

"Are you—"

"Sasuke, do you believe in s—signs?"

He hadn't expected her to speak quite so quickly; he was certain he'd have to coax words from her, with lots of "are you okay?"s and the occasional "you can talk to me". When they were younger, he'd seen Naruto make it work with Sakura, pestering her until she finally gushed about all her problems, using his shoulder as a tissue, or something — and he'd wink at Sasuke over the top of her shoulder, or do something equally as ridiculous, and Sakura'd notice, and then she'd punch him high over the horizon.

Not, really, that it was any use reminiscing at a time like this.

Still, he attempted to answer the question, racking his brains for a moment which he might have considered a sign for misfortune. There had been a lot of rain, he was certain of that, whenever something bad had happened — or it had been dark — or to quiet; but he didn't believe they were signs. Just the weather or the time of day. No, believing in signs, in his opinion, meant believing in other things — like destiny or luck or ghosts, or something he believed to be equally as unimaginable.

He raised an eyebrow.

"…no."

She seemed to consider his answer for a little while, turning it over and over in her brain, picking it apart and attempting to apply his final, resolute _no_ to her situation. To the discovery of Neji's letter. To Hanabi's yawning. To the cracked bowl. To the bad feeling she'd had all day, and the aching, biting guilt. She tried to apply that no — tried to push all what ifs and maybes out of her head — and found she couldn't quite do it.

Hinata stood up.

"I—I'm sorry Sasuke, I need to—"

He nodded. "That's okay. You looked like Hell, anyway — whatever's bothering you, go and sort it out."

He watched as she turned to leave, making sure to tuck in her chair, not once glancing at him — but whenever she turned her head, he saw the shine of something wet upon her cheeks, and he wondered, absently, if he'd said the right thing. When she'd reached the door, when she'd pulled it open and was about to step outside, he cleared his throat.

She stopped.

"You look much prettier when you're smiling, anyway."

She turned around, then, a smudged, teary face and wide, watery eyes — but a genuine wobbly smile plastered across her lips anyway. She looked at him, and he looked back at her, and she said, "I could say the same to _you_, Sasuke." And, with that, she offered him a little wave, still smiling ever so slightly, as she turned and left.

**.**

**.**

Akamaru noticed the bug following him just as he began to near Konoha — or, rather, just as he _thought_ he was beginning to near Konoha. His head felt dizzy and the different smells were getting hard to distinguish; really, he needed to sit down and rest for a little while, have a drink or something — the strain in his back, from running as fast as he could while carrying to heavy shinobi, was getting to be too much.

But he noticed the bug.

It was following him, to begin with, darting to and from the trees behind him, buzzing along at a safe distance. He didn't recognise it at first — he growled, actually — but then he began to slow down, and he realised it smelt safe. It smelt of the other boy — not his master, the _other_ one —, and so he slowed down, staring at the bug. The bug stared at him.

Then, with a little buzz, the bug flew away.

And Akamaru followed.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata couldn't help but feel ever so slightly bad about running out on Sasuke, but her heart was thumping too hard for her to think — she'd torn out of that cell faster than she'd ever imagined she'd have been able to, and Ibiki had called after her long after she was out of earshot. He'd rubbed his forehead, frowned, and then shrugged a shoulder, deciding it was none of his business anyway — and, had Hinata known of his decision, she would have been grateful.

Because she didn't want to think.

She was too busy running.

All she could hear was the pounding of her footsteps, matching the drumming of her heart, her arms swinging backwards and forwards wildly at her side — if her father saw her now, he would undoubtedly tut. She lacked the poise and neatness, she thought, of a kunoichi, but she really didn't care — because the bowl kept cracking over and over in her mind, and she kept wondering — kept _thinking_ — what if something _had_ happened?

What if he was dead?

And she'd never gotten to say goodbye.

She barely realised she was at the gate — and then, all of a sudden, she was running _through_ it, past the two shinobi stood guard; and she could hear the crunch of branches, the crackle of leaves, the snap of a twig. She thought, maybe, she might be crying again. She didn't really care. She was too busy running, because she needed to find her cousin, needed to tell him sorry, needed to help, needed to—

A sharp, short bark cut through her babbling, wild thoughts.

She blinked, turning around.

"…Aka… Akamaru?"

**.**

**.**

Akamaru'd have recognised her scent from anywhere, he knew that — she was the Girl, the one who patted his head and tickled his ears, just the way he liked it; the one who snuck him bits of food underneath the table, when the Woman or his Master wouldn't let him eat anything. He couldn't help but perk up at the sight of her, tail wagging ever so slightly as he followed the bug over to her. She didn't notice the bug land on her arm. Akamaru didn't care.

"…what — what _happened?" _

Akamaru barked.

He leaned forwards, front legs buckling as she rushed forwards; she swung an arm beneath his Master's back, lifting him upwards, resting him against her. Akamaru heard a low groan, and he let out another sharp bark — that was good. His Master was speaking. Good. _Good. _If the Girl took the other female now, then Akamaru would be able to turn around and go back for the other boy — the one who had been his partner, briefly, and had smelt of cinnamon, despite the blood. He wagged his tail enthusiastically, waiting for the Girl to move forwards, to take the other.

She stopped and knelt down in front of Akamaru.

"…where's — A—Akamaru, w—where's… _Neji?"_

**.**

**.**

Hinata hadn't really expected an answer — for one, the dog couldn't speak, and for two, she doubted Akamaru even understood —, but she still somehow felt as though that little, confused tilt of the head had crushed her hopes. If Neji wasn't there — not with Kiba, not with Tenten —, then where was he? Was he hurt? Was he lost? Had he gotten split up from the group? Was he—

_Dead._

She needed to find him, to prove to herself that she was wrong. He'd be sat somewhere — he'd raise an eyebrow at all the tears and the mess, and he'd shrug a shoulder and tell her she was never supposed to worry. And that he forgave her. She stood up, then, barely noticing Kiba's weight against her body — she wanted to go and run. To find him. To run and run, to help him, to save him, to leave her friends where they were — and that was around about when she spotted the flaw in her plan.

Neji was a prodigy — a _genius_, yes — but, above all, he was a _friend._

A friend to Kiba.

To Tenten.

He'd never have wanted her to turn her back on them.

"Stay here," she instructed, turning back and rushing the way she'd come — within moments, she had grabbed the two guard shinobi, and then they were supporting Kiba and Tenten; they'd nodded at her, instructed her to meet them at the gates where they'd then take the two fallen shinobi back to the hospital. To the Hokage. She'd nodded in response, before turning to say one last thing to Akamaru — but, with wide eyes, she realised he'd gone.

**.**

**.**

Akamaru felt bad for leaving the Girl, because he loved the Girl very much and would never have wanted to hurt her, _ever._

But the other…

The Boy.

The Boy had saved his Master.

And now the Boy needed Akamaru's help.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Noises.

A bush rustling.

A twig snapping.

Footsteps.

A shout.

—_over here! he's over here!_

Snuffling, moving, sniffing, by his face.

A wet nose presses against his cheek.

—_sakura, he doesn't look good, he doesn't look good at all._

—_akamaru, move away, let me get to work!_

Something that sounds like humming.

Green light glowing, making him wince.

—_he's moving!_

—_his eyes; he's opening his eyes._

—_i think he's going to be alright._

A small, crooked smile.

A whisper.

"…too loud, idiot…"

—_what did you just say?_

A smack.

—_shut up, you moron, and hold him still. we need to get him back to a hospital, where we can…_

And then black again. But that's all alright — because he is alive. He is a survivor. He cannot be broken that easily.

Hyuuga Neji is alive.

**.**

**.**

(For now.)

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**note**2**: **you guys are so lucky i didn't leave it on another cliffhanger. well, i sort of did, but whatever. ;D


	19. day 19

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **Dedicated to all my fans. To the new DeviantArt SasuHina fanclubs I've found, as well.

**chapter: **19/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

Gosh, it takes me so long to actually _write_ these chapters, it's unbelievable. There's a couple of things I have to say really quickly; the first of which is that _Tag_, for around a month, is going to be on hiatus. I'm going to be writing mostly for _Fifty Days_ in that time — I want to get to at least chapter twenty-five before I start uploading more _Tag_ chapters. I'll still be writing for it, though, just not uploading anything.

That being said, I'm going to start uploading the one-shot collection — which will be named _Intangible_, I think — at the beginning of May; I'll be aiming to update at least once each week, maybe more, and the chapter lengths will range. I'm going to put an explanation on my profile about that, so I'll stop chatting about that. And, last but not least, those of you who offered to take a look at some of my SasuHina ideas — I know it's taken me a while to get in contact with you, but I'll drop you a PM by the end of this week.

Thank you & enjoy this new chapter!

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata didn't often stay awake for long enough to see the moon at night, but now she was watching it closely. Her body felt electric — she was alert, her hands pressed firmly in her lap, eyes wide and glassy; above her, the moon hung silently, staring back down at her, a single, shining orb. Bright and white, it lit the midnight sky — a sky stained black, dotted here and there with blinking stars. There was a cold, brisk wind blowing, but she didn't really feel it; she was still dressed in the clothes she had worn yesterday, and was basking in a pleasant warmth — a warmth she was certain would be shattered at the slightest of moments.

Absently, she glanced around her, taking in her surroundings — the walls were pure white, matching the floor and ceiling. Even the chair she was perched on was white; she had moved it away from the bed, into one of the corners — she hadn't wanted to startle her cousin when he finally woke up. She wanted to be there for him, yes, but she didn't deserve to sit by his side.

That seat was reserved for someone else.

She closed her eyes, pressing a hand against her forehead. The last time she had seen Neji so vulnerable, so pale, had been years ago, when they were younger — the Chunnin exams had ended, and she had been in and out of hospital herself. Even back then, she had never quite gotten used to the smell — the scent of metal and plastic, sweetened by the sickly stench of disinfectants. Her father had booked her a private room, but she had never quite gotten used to hearing the groans, the footsteps, the _moans_ as she tried to sleep — she remembered an old man had stared at her, sat in his wheelchair, dressed in a pale green robe. He had been coughing, a terrible hacking sound that filled the night, making her toss and turn as she tried to sleep; then, one night, the coughing had simply stopped.

She didn't see the old man again.

No, the last time she had been to a hospital, she'd been visiting Neji. With a bitter smile, she remembered it was the very same mission she had thought of days earlier; the mission in which he had chased after Sasuke, and had very nearly died doing so. She remembered he had looked so frail, so sickly, that, despite the fact they hadn't been all that close, she had stayed awake all night, sat outside his room, waiting patiently for him to wake. She had fallen asleep long before then, but her cousin remembered it; he had told her so on occasion, smiling fondly at her and ruffling her hair.

Looking at him now, she thought he looked much the same as he had back then. Tucked beneath crisp white sheets, he looked smaller — not for the first time in her life, she realised her cousin _could_ be broken. No matter how strong he seemed, it only took one person stronger than him to fully snap him — and there he lay, looking well and truly broken. His skin was pale, his dark hair framing his face and only making his features look whiter and whiter. He was sleeping peacefully, she would have said, had it not been for the fine beads of sweat glistening upon his forehead and the way his lips pulled downwards in a grimace.

She let out a little sigh.

She didn't like seeing her cousin vulnerable like this. It had hurt earlier, seeing her best friend bloodied and torn — Kiba had let out a whimper when the doctors had touched him, and that noise had made her feel sick to her stomach. He had slept fitfully, bandaged and bruised; Akamaru had stayed by his side and, sat beside Kiba's bed, the dog had been a little bit of comfort, of warmth and normality, before heading back to her cousin's room. Out of the three, Tenten had been the easiest for the doctor's to heal. While her ribs were cracked, and she had lost an amount of blood, it was a relatively simple procedure and, while it still hurt for her to move extensively, her ribs had been easily fixed back into place.

Now, Tenten was the one lying beside Neji's bed, fast asleep, half-sprawled across the bed in a position which couldn't be comfortable at all — she was clutching the blanket with one fist, her other hand placed lightly on top of Neji's. Her breathing was soft and steady as she slept, but her brow was furrowed ever so slightly.

Hinata sat where she was and watched them for a moment; the guilt that had overwhelmed her the day before was slowly beginning to ebb away. She still felt it, ever so slightly, creeping at her mind — but it had almost entirely vanished now. After taking Tenten and Kiba to the hospital, she had felt some sort of relief — after seeing Neji turn up an hour or so later, relief had washed over her in waves, and she'd felt almost giddy with happiness. The guilt had begun to fade away then — partly because she was certain her cousin would think her ridiculous for harbouring such feelings. Her head was clearer now.

But every time she thought of the letter, of his neat, cursive handwriting, and every time she saw how vulnerable and pale he was, guilt gripped at her heart with an iron hold.

Another little sigh left her lips, and she stood up, crossing over to the window. She opened them, leaning against the windowsill and staring out at the darkness — she heaved a heavy sigh this time, strands of dark hair billowing about her face as she did so. A cool breeze ruffled her jacket. She opened her mouth to sigh again, when a voice cut across her.

"_Don't."_

Hinata blinked, startled — she turned almost instantly, barely able to stop the smile from splitting across her face. She crossed the room so quickly it surprised even her, and threw her arms around her cousin, momentarily unaware of his cuts and bruises and bandages. He grimaced, but raised his free hand anyway, patting her back awkwardly. When she pulled away, his features were gentle but firm; his voice, in contrast, was startlingly weak — weary and a little bit sad. She knelt by his bed, one hand pressed against his forehead — it was clammy and hot. He brushed her hand away.

"Go home, Hinata."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shushed her.

"You're _tired_," he murmured, this time ignoring her hand, as she brushed strands of hair from his face. "_I'm _tired. Neither of us should be awake right now, but with you stood breathing over my shoulder, I can't sleep."

He chuckled good-naturedly, teasing her before closing his eyes — she smiled awkwardly, sheepishly, and traced her fingers across his forehead, before letting her hand drop. That guilt threatened to overwhelm her again, and she felt tears prick at her eyes, red-hot and dangerous; she wiped them away before they could fall, before he opened his eyes and asked what was wrong. She didn't want to answer any questions right now. Absently, she wondered if maybe she _should_ go home. Looking over at Tenten, she was certain Neji was in more than capable hands — at that thought, she felt a smirk tug at the corners of her lips, and she had to resist the urge to tease her cousin.

She realised he was looking at her suspiciously, an eyebrow raised — she flapped a hand at him, he smiled at her, and, as quickly as that, the guilt — the tears — the sadness…

It all disappeared.

Her cousin was _back._

He was _safe._

That, really, was all that mattered. There was no use in her brooding in the past, regretting her every action and wishing things had been different; she wasn't that sort of person, not anymore — or, at least, she tried not to be. So many people had taught her that. Naruto — he had always looked forwards, a smile plastered across his face because that was what he had to do. Neji — he had adjusted, he had changed his views, he had defied the idea of fate which had snared him once before.

And now _her._

She stood up, a small smile flickering across her face; as she did so, she reached over, tucking Neji's hair behind his ear. He frowned up at her; for a moment, she was reminded of the Neji from before — from her childhood —, with his hair tucked behind his ears and a shadow of the pout he used to wear plastered across his face. She _did_ giggle then, pressing her hand against her mouth. Neji eyed her suspiciously once again, "…what are you laughing at?"

"You," Hinata replied, before chuckling at his indignant expression. "I was just thinking about how young you look with your hair like that."

Instantly, his hand moved to his hair, almost self-consciously. It was such a human action, such a natural response, that, for a moment, Hinata felt a lump fly to her throat. She watched as he ruffled his hair, strands slipping back in front of his face — she couldn't help but admire briefly how smooth his hair always was. How neat it seemed.

She smiled.

Reaching over, she placed a light kiss against his forehead. "I'm think I'm going to take your advice — after all, there's no need for me to be here anymore."

She crossed the room, lingering in the doorway — nodding back at Tenten, she grinned.

"After all, it looks like you have your own guardian angel looking after you."

**.**

**.**

Neji blinked after his cousin, an expression of confusion briefly settling over his face as he listened to her footsteps disappear down the hallway; then his gaze flickered across to Tenten, and his features softened. She was breathing lightly. She didn't look as pale as he'd last seen her — apart from a dark purple bruise on her forehead, she looked okay. Peaceful, at least. He was glad she was alright; absently, he thought it had all been worth it just to see her lying there, almost as good as new.

He sighed, ran his hand across his forehead, and said, "_You_ should go home, too."

He might have imagined it, but he was certain she was smiling.

**.**

**.**

Hinata wrapped her arms around her chest, gazing around as she walked through the silent streets of Konoha — it surprised her that she'd never truly walked around her home town at night. Everything was so quiet and so still, that she could stop and really _look_ — the stars seemed all the brighter when she was staring at them on her own, and the wind seemed sad, whispering at her ear and tugging her hair. Childish, really. She shrugged a shoulder and continued walking, letting herself slip into her thoughts.

She was thinking of yesterday.

She'd been thinking about it for quite a while, really — it was always, aside from her actual cousin, the first thing on her thoughts. It had been so terrible; there had been a burning sense of loss, of guilt, and she remembered her heart had ached in her chest, thumping so frantically she was afraid it might burst. She remembered that she'd felt almost as though she were giving up, by turning and walking back to the hospital with Tenten and Kiba; she had felt as though she were stopping. She had thought Neji was _dead._

_This must be how _he_ feels._

The thought was strange. For a moment, she was quite unsure of who she were thinking about — but, with a jolt, realisation overwhelmed her, and her eyes widened ever so slightly. _Sasuke._ Yesterday, she had, without truly meaning to, given up on Neji — she hadn't done it purposefully, but a small, nagging part of her mind had kept whispering, "What if he's _dead?" _and, despite her attempts to ignore it, she had begun to think as if he _were_ dead. She'd been heartbroken — it had felt as if there were a pit in her stomach, and she were sinking slowly in on herself, the reality around her collapsing as despair overwhelmed her.

And then Neji had been found, and he'd been _alive._

It had been like waking up from a dream. She saw his face, and saw that he was very much _alive_, even if he was beaten and bruised and broken — and as much as it hurt to see him in such a state, a feeling of elation had passed through her nonetheless. Because he was alive. And that pit, that despair, seemed to vanish entirely, resurfacing only occasionally. He was alive, though, and that was all that mattered.

That was something Sasuke had never gotten. When his parents had died, his entire world had collapsed, and there had been no way of waking up from that — they hadn't suddenly all sat up, laughed and smiled and said the whole thing was a joke. Unlike Neji, they had been truly _dead. _That pit she had briefly felt, for a few horrible, terrible moments — that pit was _always_ there for Sasuke. She had begun to slightly understand it, and now she knew.

It had been awful.

Absently, she realised she was nearing her home. All of the windows were dark, bar two — the first of which was Hanabi's room, she thought. Her little sister had probably stayed up for a while, waiting for news of Neji's condition, and had no doubt fallen asleep with her light on — she'd never been able to stay up for too late, but made up for that by being able to wake up instantly. The moment Hinata put her foot through the door, her sister would be by her side, no doubt, hassling her for news of Neji.

The next light surprised her — it belonged to her father's study, which therefore probably meant her father was still awake. No one else ever went in his study. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in there, but she remembered being severely scolded afterwards; she must have been young, then. She wondered why he was awake; it was possible he was worried about Neji, that was true, but the idea had never really occurred to her. She supposed it was likely. She'd never really thought about Neji and Hiashi as being a nephew and an uncle — she had always seen them as equals.

Men, really.

Nephew made Neji sound like a little boy.

For some reason, she realised she was walking away from her house; skirting past one wall and continuing on around it, taking the long way back round. For a little while, she was unsure of where she was walking to — her feet just moved one after the other, and she was too busy gazing up at the stars to really care. She was lost, trapped, in her own thoughts. She recognised Naruto's flat — the lights were on, she thought, and he must have just been returning from his mission; he had, after all, been the one to return Neji to her, and she thought briefly about going inside and thanking him again.

Really, she was certain she'd thanked him enough — she'd stuttered and stammered it over and over again, tears glistening in her eyes, and, frankly, he'd looked a bit frightened. He'd held his hands out in defence, blinked, and then scratched the back of his neck, all the while chuckling sheepishly.

"It was no problem," he'd said. "He's my friend, after all — it was the least I could do."

She should have known, after all — he was _Naruto_, after all. There was no way he'd have said no — no way he'd have left without finding Neji. And she could see he was putting on a brave face, anyway — despite her joy at him having found Neji, he hadn't found someone even dearer to him, but he'd still bravely masked his sadness. Kakashi hadn't been found with Neji, nor with Tenten and Kiba — he hadn't been found anywhere near them. In fact, he hadn't been found at all.

He was presumed missing or worse.

She continued walking, arms still wrapped around her body; it was so dark, and she swore it had gotten colder. Perhaps, as her thoughts had gotten darker, so had the night around her — it was oddly poetic. It sounded beautiful to her, though, in a melancholy way. Her arms fell to her side, as she gazed around her, taking in her surroundings — she recognised it all. With a blink, she realised she was walking towards the prison — towards Sasuke. It was probably two o' clock, maybe a little bit later — she wondered if she'd even be able to get in to see him. She was almost there, however — it was worth a shot.

**.**

**.**

For once in his life, Sasuke's dreams were peaceful.

Usually, he dreamt of nothing — nothing, really, or everything. Sometimes, his dreams were fitful, borderline nightmares, and he would toss and turn, skin pale as beads of sweat broke out upon his forehead. He'd see people with painted faces and bloody smiles — his brother stood in a pool of crimson, a sword gleaming white in the sunlight — and, sometimes, he would see his self. He was usually younger, around six or seven, and he was always cowering — afraid and weak and pathetic. He sometimes dreamt of Naruto, of Sakura, of Kakashi; they were always smiling. Watching him. Sometimes, they became smaller and smaller, and he could only see their backs. Sometimes, their faces were grey with death.

Recently, someone else had been disturbing his dreams — a figure he never quite caught sight of; she was female, he was certain of that. Dressed in a flowing white dress, she danced ahead of him — out of reach, never quite in sight. He couldn't distinguish any of her features, but he was quite certain she was beautiful — tall and willowy, with glossy dark hair that fell down her back like tendrils of ink.

He was dreaming of her now.

The surroundings were always different. Sometimes, he was stood within the centre of Konoha; he recognised the ramen stands and shops, the market hidden just out of view. He recognised a few of the faces, his memory making them timeless; they would always look the same to him as they had done when he was eleven. He hadn't seen them since. Sometimes, he was sat upon the rooftop of an old, unknown building — a building he remembered his brother describing to him once, when he was younger. He would sit on the rooftop and gaze down at the girl — _woman_, he corrected — below him.

Sometimes — such as his current dream —, he was in a beautiful forest; the leaves were emerald, such a wonderful shade of green they seemed to shine like jewels. He could hear birdsong, sickeningly sweet, in the branches above him — the sky was bright blue, the sun hot upon his back, and he could hear the sound of rushing water. It was a patch of forest he remembered greatly from his travels with Team Hebi; they'd stopped to rest there once, after coming across a waterfall. He remembered Karin, no shame whatsoever, had stripped down to her undergarments, jumping into the water before flinging those back at him as well — Suigetsu, never one to be outmatched, had followed suit. He'd sat on the bank with Juugo and shared conversation, watching as his other two teammates — begrudging friends, perhaps — argued with each other, splashing in the water.

It had been beautiful then, and it was all the more beautiful now. Now, he wasn't gazing at Karin's body, attempting to ignore the way the water glistened in the light off pale flesh — now, he was gazing at a dancing woman, elegant in every way, dress clinging to her body as she swayed in the water.

He always watched her.

He was transfixed.

It was a dream he was always pleased to have, and never really wished to wake from; it wasn't that she was particularly beautiful. Sasuke had never really been a womaniser; he'd never really looked at any kunoichi in a romantic light. They were either friends or associates. Never anything… more. It wasn't that he was naive to that notion; he'd had his fair share of crushes, the first being when he was much younger and he had seen his brother training with an older woman. Curly black hair tied back into a bun, he'd thought she was beautiful, as she threw her kunai with deadly precision — not quite as good as his brother, he remembered, but pretty good nonetheless. He'd grown up. When he was eleven, he'd met that woman again at the Chunnin exams; she'd been the sensei of another team then — her name was Kurenai, and she'd still been quite attractive then. So no, Sasuke wasn't one to shy away from attractive women — _he_ attracted them quite often, he thought, thinking of Karin.

But this woman…

This mysterious, dancing woman…

She _was_ attractive, yes, but it wasn't that which made him wish to dream of her. There was a certain familiarity about her — he _knew_ who she was, he just knew it, and yet he never got close enough to see her. Instead, the thought just nagged at his mind, even after the dream ended.

He _knew_ who she was.

Every time he had the dream, he felt as if he were one step closer to revealing her name — to grasping her shoulder, turning her, and staring straight at her face. He was certain he would recognise her. Almost as soon as the thought struck him, he felt himself take a step forwards; instantly, it was as if he were stood right in front of her, an arm outstretched. He could see her chest rise and fall as she danced, see the pale of her skin shine wet in the sunlight, smell the slight scent of lilac and mint—

"_Sasuke."_

And then she was gone.

And he was waking up.

He blinked blearily, as the person repeated his name again — softly, a whisper, as if they didn't really want to disturb him. He wanted to rub his eyes and stretch, but the bonds restraining him meant he couldn't move at all; instead, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and then gazed at his visitor.

"…Hinata," he raised an eyebrow.

This was surprising, he was willing to admit. Glancing about the room, he noticed the ANBU had already left — he wondered, briefly, what the time was. He was well aware of the fact that they slept; normally, they took it in turns. He'd seen them do it on occasion, but usually they timed their breaks to the same time he slept — and, usually, when he was asleep, it was late at night. Sometimes he found himself falling asleep not long after Hinata left, or perhaps an hour before she arrived. Her visits, really, were how he judged the time of day.

But now…

"What time is it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "About… three o' clock, maybe."

His brow furrowed, "How long have you been here for?"

She turned a pretty shade of pink then, obviously embarrassed. "I, ah… I arrived about t—twenty minutes ago. You looked so peaceful, I d—didn't want to wake you; and… and it was _nice_ seeing you like that, I s—suppose. I just wanted to w—watch for a little while." She buried her head in her hands and let out a low groan. "That… that sounded so c—creepy, didn't it?"

He chuckled softly — the chuckles turned into a long yawn, and his eyes screwed up, brow wrinkling as his mouth widened. When he opened his eyes again, Hinata was bright red; tomato-red, he thought, and he grinned.

"Just a little, yeah."

She groaned again.

He let out another amused laugh, and then settled for just watching her; he felt he was at least owed a few moments of silence. Her clothes were wrinkled, ruffled, as if she'd slept in them — her hair hadn't been brushed, he thought; perhaps she'd tugged her fingers through the knotted strands briefly, but there were still visible tangles and kinks in otherwise smooth, dark hair. No doubt this was how she looked when she woke up each morning — stretching and yawning, he imagined, in a night dress of some sort. She looked as if she were the type to wear a night dress.

He blinked.

…_why_ was he thinking of what she wore to sleep? It was as if his mind had sprung along some stepping stones and, midway along, he had slipped and fallen into the realm of the unknown. He blinked again, attempting to vanquish the thought. Instead, he traced the contours of her face with his eyes — she was becoming more and more familiar to him, to the point where he knew every curve, every dip, every line of her features. For some reason, something nagged at his mind then, but he banished it. He wasn't going to allow himself to be distracted.

He liked these periods of silence with her; they felt safe. They felt okay. He knew she was content with the silence as well, because she'd often look back at him, or gaze down at her feet, thinking of other things. At the moment, she was staring down at her feet.

"…what's with _this_," Sasuke asked, and if he'd had a hand to flap, he would have flapped it. "What's with the early visit?"

"I was—"

She fell silent.

He waited a moment for her to gather up her words; she looked as if she wanted to tell him something important, but she wasn't sure what. He would wait patiently for her to be ready, as he always did — there was no point in snapping at her. After all, she was visiting him out of the goodness of her heart — and no doubt out of some stupid secret promise to Naruto, or something equally as ridiculous —, and he didn't want her to have a change of mind.

Finally, she looked at him.

"Yesterday, a team of shinobi were sent out after my — my c—cousin, Neji," she began, staring fixedly down at her hands. "That's where I went running off to. They hadn't found him t—then, but I was worried anyway. I kept seeing all these… all these _things_, which just reminded me of h—him. And I…"

She sniffed.

"Anyway, I found his teammates — they w—were hurt, but… but okay. We got them to s—safety. For a while, I thought Neji was dead; I thought I'd never see him again, and it just… it _hurt. _It hurt so badly, I felt as if my w—world were splitting in two. And… And when he turned up, when they found him, I was so relieved, I burst into tears right then and there. I thought — I know it'll sound stupid, and silly, and ridiculous to you, but I thought I understood you, for a little while. When I thought Neji was gone forever, I thought I…"

Hinata trailed off. She looked apologetic, he thought; he blinked down at her, raising an eyebrow, and thought. She'd described it as if her world were splitting in two — it had never felt all that neat, all that clean, to him; not when he'd seen his parents lying in pools of their own blood. Not when he'd slain his own brother and passed out in the dirt beside him, their blood mingling in the pouring rain.

It had never felt that clean — it was controlled chaos.

But he understood why she was telling him — she _thought_ she'd understood. She'd tasted a little of how he felt each and every day, and she was saying she'd _thought_ she'd understood. Looking at her face, he knew she knew she'd _never_ understand — it wasn't something a small taster could help a person comprehend. You couldn't try a little bit of the dinner to judge the whole meal — you had to eat it all, drink the red wine with it, finish your pudding and then dance your merry little way to Hell.

Then maybe you'd understand, he thought. Just maybe.

Still, he understood — she'd wanted to tell him, because she knew she would never understand; but she wanted to try. She was the type of person who _always_ wanted to try; she was like Naruto, he thought. She had eyes like his. Determined to the point of stubbornness, but gentler. Less like a ox, he thought, and possibly just a goat — although he wasn't all that certain as to how stubborn a goat was.

He offered her a lopsided smile. "You think too much."

Just like that, her expression changed from apologetic anxiety to happiness; a grin split across her face, but he could see the slight bit of relief which shone in her eyes. She had thought he might not understand, that he might grow annoyed with her — then, almost as quickly as it appeared, the happiness flew from her face, and she bit her lip.

"What," he raised an eyebrow, "_More_ news?"

She nodded slowly.

He felt a headache coming on — absently, he wished he were back in his dream, watching that beautiful girl — _woman_ — dance. Still, he waited for her to continue, nodding his head once to urge her on.

"Kakashi's missing."

He wasn't entirely sure what to feel about that statement. It confused him — and, yet, something like worry grasped his heart, and his brow furrowed. The idea of Kakashi being missing — that was fundamentally _wrong. _The Kakashi he'd known had been too strong; he'd been a mentor, a guiding figure, and the fact that he'd failed miserably in his request to set Sasuke down the good guy path meant nothing. He'd still spent time with him, training with him — back then, he would have been able to say that, out of Team 7, he was the one who knew Kakashi best.

Now…

Well, he couldn't be sure.

"What do you mean _missing?" _He wasn't entirely sure why he asked the question, as he knew exactly what Hinata meant; his mind knew exactly what missing meant, in context with any shinobi, but, despite his rational, logical personality, he couldn't quite comprehend it.

"He… he was on the same mission as Neji," Hinata explained, pressing her index fingers together as she spoke, nervousness written across her features. "They were all p—pretty badly hurt. Kakashi, however… He — he wasn't found anywhere near the others; he wasn't found at all. He's still missing n—now, but nothing says he isn't alive. They're looking for him; the ANBU, I mean. They're… they're _l—looking."_

That could mean everything or it could mean nothing, depending on whether Kakashi was alive or not. If it were the latter, it would depend on the killer; did the killer plan on disposing of the body or ripping that stolen sharingan from his face? The idea of that happening was almost too much; it made him feel physically sick. He was certain, when he'd left Konoha, when he'd attacked Naruto, all those years ago, that he'd severed all ties with that life; with his old team.

Now Hinata was bringing them all back.

He should have seen it coming, he supposed. She was still so deeply involved with the life he'd left behind, and now she was becoming a deeper and deeper aspect of his current life. She was like a tree, planting her roots deep within him — it almost felt as if she were becoming a part of him, unlocking each and every one of his doors until there were nothing left to explore. He wondered, when that happened, how he would feel. What would happen? He abandoned the thought — it mattered very little, he decided, but he could feel it trapped at the back of his mind, waiting to resurface at any moment — and thought of Kakashi.

"Sasuke, are you… are you alright?"

He shrugged. "I'll be fine," he murmured, and then, more to himself than her, he said, "I'm no longer a part of that life, anyway. It doesn't concern me."

She opened her mouth to speak, but something in his eyes must have told her not to talk about it, because she closed it again instantly. She simply looked at him, the concern evident in her eyes — then, startling both him and her, she yawned widely, stretching and arching her back. He realised then that she looked quite tired; her eyes were too wide, as if she were forcing herself to stay alert, and there were bags beneath them.

"…you look like Hell," he stated.

She smiled wearily. "Thank you for that c—compliment."

"Seriously," he raised an eyebrow. "You ought to go home and sleep."

She stared at him then. Her eyes were abnormally pale, he decided — they looked like moonlight, wide and knowing. With her lips pursed together, she simply gazed at him; a minute passed, and then she sighed.

"I'll stay here for a moment longer."

"Do as you wish," he murmured, but he felt something like relief settle over him. He watched as she settled down more comfortably, relaxing in her chair; she pulled her feet up underneath her, curling up like a cat. He watched silently. She laid her head in her hands, closed her eyes for just a few moments, and didn't open them again; he blinked, raised an eyebrow. When her chest began to rise and fall slowly, evenly, and her breathing became soft, calm and collected, he felt himself chuckle.

She'd fallen asleep.

Watching her, he understood vaguely why she'd said it was nice watching him sleep. While he couldn't say the same for himself, there was something oddly reassuring about a person sleeping — about Hinata sleeping. Her face was so calm; it was as blank as a canvas, and yet so vivid. Every twitch of her brow, every small distant smile, and he could almost imagine he knew what she were thinking of. It was quite nice to watch, he wasn't going to lie; absently, he felt himself mirroring Hinata's words, wondering if he were a bit creepy. He decided that it didn't matter — that, either way, he didn't care.

Her hair spilled across her face. He felt the urge to reach out and touch it, to brush it away, but, in his bonds, he knew he couldn't. Instead, he simply tilted his head, gazing at her. When she shifted, he felt himself turn red — he felt as if he were intruding on a private moment. His cheeks were heating up something awful; he would have crossed his fingers to hope she wouldn't wake up then, and so he closed his eyes firmly. He didn't need to see her. If he couldn't see her, he wouldn't feel so… so _forgiven._

So _welcome._

It frightened him a little bit.

But, he thought, she had always frightened him a little bit — and that was his last thought, as he too fell into the depths of sleep and back into the world of the dancing, beautiful woman.

**.**

**.**

Hinata woke up before Sasuke. Her back hurt and her neck ached, but she arched and stretched nonetheless, blinking around her — the room was still so dim, and it didn't take her long to get used to the light. There was only one ANBU member stood in the room — the female one, she thought, wearing the mask of the bear. When Hinata shifted, so did the ANBU member, turning to look at her.

"…do you eat?" She asked, blinking — the question was one born of sleep depravity, she thought, and she resisted the urge to yawn again. She had, after all, stayed up all night — she wasn't one to do that; she enjoyed her sleep far too much.

"Occasionally," Bear-mask's voice sounded amused, "Although, I only dine on raw meat."

Hinata's eyes widened.

She was certain she'd never heard the ANBU speak before, let alone heard them _joke. _

"I'm _joking_," Bear-mask murmured, a chuckle escaping her lips. "And you, Hyuuga Hinata, are not where you are supposed to be. You ought to run home. Your father, undoubtedly, would be worried."

Hinata bit her lip, gazing first at the doorway and then at the sleeping Sasuke. She wanted to wish him a good morning; she wanted him to blink blearily at her, like he did the night before. He had looked so vulnerable then.

"He's not going to go anywhere," Bear-mask interrupted her thoughts. "Go and tell your father you're alive, little girl. He _will_ be worried."

"Ah — ah, o—okay!"

With that, Hinata sprung from where she was sat, dusting herself down. She crossed the room, pausing to bow her thanks to Bear-mask; the other looked vaguely bemused behind her mask, but flapped a hand, gesturing her away. That was the only movement Hinata had seen her make, throughout the entire exchange. Then, lingering in the doorway, she turned and glanced back over her shoulder — she was certain she saw Sasuke's eyelids flicker, and she offered him a little grin.

"Good morning, Sasuke."

And, with that, she was gone.

**.**

**.**

Mayu waited a moment, listening to the girl's footsteps disappear, before facing forwards again. She peered at Sasuke from behind her mask, an eyebrow raised; when she'd found out the S-rank criminal she would have to guard was Uchiha Sasuke, she had taken the job instantly. She had known his brother; despite being a good few years older than him, he'd risen to ANBU almost instantly, while she had had to claw her way into a position. She had been intrigued to see how his brother had turned out.

Every single bit like Itachi, she thought. She'd heard Sasuke hated his brother — perhaps he hated him because they were so similar. Itachi had been a coward around women, too, despite his pretty face.

"You can open your eyes, now," she spoke.

Almost instantly, his eyelids flickered open and he fixed her with a stare. There was silence for a moment, and then he finally looked away, something like a sulk slipping across his features. "How did you know?"

"I've been watching," she replied. "You were awake over an hour ago."

"Yeah, I guess I was."

He closed his eyes then, ending the conversation. His brother had been like that too — a touch of rudeness, a smudge of arrogance, but it was all forgiven because… because he was Uchiha Itachi. Because this was Uchiha Sasuke. They were forgiven because they were people who just _were_ forgiven; there was no other reason for it. So when Sasuke closed his eyes, ending the conversation, Mayu didn't protest — instead, she simply stared ahead. She would never tell Ibiki, but she was very much against the idea of Hinata visiting Sasuke.

Despite being ANBU, she was a fairytale sort of girl. A romantic at heart. While she'd killed as many women and children as she had men, there was nothing she liked better than to cuddle up with a book and smile, as they all lived happily ever after and the end. There was nothing she liked better than a brilliant, beautiful cliché; something to make the audience smile. Looking at Sasuke and Hinata, she thought it was cruel.

There could only be heartbreak and tragedy, and oh how she _loathed_ unhappy endings.

**.**

**.**

**.**

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**note**2**: **I wrote this in a day. It's half past one in the morning. I have to wake up at six. Oh, damn it. D:


	20. day 2o

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **To all of the new readers, as well as the old. Gosh, this has taken so long. D:

**chapter: **2o/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

First off, I'm really sorry about the wait. I've had this half-completed for so long, but the chapter just wasn't working for me. I ended up deleting it all and re-writing, and I'm so much happier with this version. This chapter also almost directly follows on from the last, too, so yeah.

Enjoy! :D

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hiashi worried.

He couldn't recall when he first started worrying — it wasn't when he was younger, that was for sure, as he'd always played with his brother, and he had never worried once. Hizashi had always been so carefree, constantly smiling, always laughing; he'd been a little beam of sunshine, a little ray of happiness, and, because of him, Hiashi had always been smiling and laughing too. They'd been the perfect pair; they were like clockwork, moving in perfect time, in harmony with one another — and it had seemed like there was never a sunny day.

They had been unbelievably, incredibly close; as cliché as it might have been, they had shared a bond only twins could share. They were attached at the hip, as the saying might have been; had you told six-year-old Hiashi of his future — of the terrible tragedy that would befall the pair —, he would have scoffed. He would have laughed, as surprising as that may seem. Their bond was too strong to be broken by a something as petty, as _ridiculous_, as the separation of the Hyuuga clan; even at an early age, he had known he would become the leader of the clan eventually, but that hadn't mattered. To him, that would never have changed anything.

One January, just after their seventh birthday, Hizashi took him outside, and showed him the tree-house he'd been building; his younger brother had spent all of the last few months building it, despite the fact that it snowed almost constantly all throughout that winter. He remembered his brother would disappear for a few hours, and then return later on in the evening, his nose pink with cold, teeth chattering. He'd been so angry that his brother was keeping secrets from him, that he hadn't spoken to Hizashi for a week — but Hizashi had simply smiled and taken his punishment in silence, never revealing the secret.

When the tree-house was revealed, Hiashi had clapped his hands to his mouth; his bottom lip had started to wobble, and he said sorry and thank you so many times that his brother threatened to punch him if he didn't shut up.

"Don't be a _baby_," Hizashi had grinned, but he'd looked ever so slightly embarrassed when Hiashi had announced it was the best present _ever_.

They spent many years playing in that tree-house; there was many a summer afternoon, when the sky seemed golden and the air seemed to buzz with warmth, spent hiding in that tree-house, playing shinobi together and talking about the academy and just generally having fun. Everything had seemed so perfect. In fact, one time, after spending a week convincing their mother, they slept in that tree-house.

That was when Hiashi made the promise.

It was the first summer when they were ten, and Hiashi had spent the entire afternoon in his father's study, learning the secrets of the Hyuuga clan. It had been so boring, he'd almost fallen asleep a few times; and, worst of all, Hizashi hadn't been invited. He'd had to sit alone in their shared bedroom, having fun _without _Hiashi, and that was what frustrated him most. The moment the lesson had finished, he'd launched himself out of the study and played with Hiashi until nightfall; then, as their mother had promised, she'd given them a sleeping bag and some ramen, and let them sleep in the tree-house. Staring up at the stars, he'd turned to his brother and said, "I never want it to change."

"Want _what_ to change?"

"_It_," Hiashi had announced, as if that explained everything. "This. I don't want it to change."

Despite the fact that Hiashi was older, Hizashi had always seemed so much _wiser_ to Hiashi — although, if you had asked Hizashi what he'd thought, he would have immediately proclaimed that Hiashi was far smarter than he was. "It doesn't have to change," he'd said, and he'd said it so matter-of-factly that Hiashi had believed him instantly; rolling over onto his side, he'd stared at his brother and said the words that Hiashi wanted to take back, even to this day. He'd been too young to really grasp the weight of a promise, but he'd promised anywhere.

Two tiny, stupid words — "I _promise_." — and, as soon as they were said, it was as if those sunny, summer days faded to grey.

As time passed, and the two became older, it became more apparent that Hiashi was older than his twin, if only by a few minutes; their parents began to focus their attention solely on him, paying for the best books, the best teachers, the best of _everything_ — and Hizashi had slowly fallen into the place of second best. It had been a gradual thing, but, looking back, he couldn't help but feel as though someone had simply clicked a button; one day his life was a kaleidoscope of colours, and then everything had turned grey. The two brothers had stopped playing with each other; Hiashi became quieter, more focused on his studies, and Hizashi had grown distant.

All of a sudden, they became strangers.

He would have said that _that _was the moment he began worrying, but, at the time, he hadn't been all that aware of the sudden gap between him and his other half. He'd been painfully oblivious to it, far too wrapped up in his studies, far too eager to impress his parents, far too _selfish_ to notice such an obvious gap — it was as if a chasm had opened up between the two, but Hiashi hadn't noticed.

One day he would fall and plummet to his doom — it was only cruel fate that meant his brother fell and plummeted with him. The day his brother died, he thought, was _maybe_ the day he began to worry; when he saw the empty eyes of his brother gazing back at him through the eyes of his nephew, Neji, he felt something clutch at his heart so tightly, so awfully, that it made him flinch just thinking about it. He couldn't pinpoint that moment exactly, when worry first overcame him, but he worried _now_, and that was all that mattered.

In fact, he often worried.

He was worrying at that precise moment in time, although you would never have been able to tell from the expression on his face. Hinata hadn't returned home from the hospital last night, and she was still missing, despite the fact that the sun had already painted its golden way across the sky hours ago. Stood in the kitchen, his back pressed against the counter, arms folded across his chest, he found himself worrying about her — something which he'd never admit. He often worried about her.

Sat with her back to him at the table, Hanabi nursed a cup of hot tea; steam curled over her shoulder, up into the air, and he watched it idly. "Father," she spoke, not glancing at him, "You ought to eat something."

"I am not hungry."

"_Father_," Hanabi pressed, shoulders hunched as she took a small, polite sip of her drink. "Eat. You needn't worry about Hinata."

Sometimes, it surprised him how alike he and his youngest daughter were; she was able to read him like a book, and he was able to tell exactly how she was feeling at any moment. The pair weren't close — he wasn't really close to anyone, nowadays —, but they were so similar, it sometimes scared him. She was far too like him; if he were a better father, he would have tried to steer her away from the lonely path he had taken.

If he were a better father, he thought, he would be looking for his eldest daughter, instead of waiting for her to return.

He sighed.

But he _wasn't_ a better father, and every time he looked at Hinata and saw her flinch, saw her lip tremble, saw her eyes flicker away, he _knew_ it. Everything he had said to her, everything he had done to her, was a mistake — a selfish, stupid mistake, because he had been mirroring his own father; but, despite that, a little bit of him was trying to create the brother of his childhood. A sunny place.

The sound of the front door clicking open disrupted him from his thoughts, and his head jerked up, his back growing stiff as he listened to the familiar shuffling of a person removing their shoes. There was a moment of silence, followed by footsteps, and then Hinata appeared in the doorway, her hair swinging into her face as she bent her head politely. Her shoulders were hunched. She didn't look at him, nor did she look at Hanabi, and instead she kept her gaze trained on the floor below her. She looked so small, he thought, but _strong_ — her fists were clenched loosely by her side, her feet a shoulder-width apart, and her expression was carefully blank as she raised her head to look at him.

"Father, I—"

He cut her off, holding his hand up.

In front of him, Hanabi didn't move, still nursing her tea. Her entire body was stiff, however, and she was _too_ still. Defensive, maybe. He stared at her, before looking up at Hinata; she held his gaze for a moment — longer than normal, he thought, and he felt something stir inside him —, before letting her gaze fall, waiting for him to speak.

"You are old enough to make your own decisions, I suppose," he spoke.

Hiashi watched as both of his daughters relaxed; Hanabi took a sip of her drink and Hinata's fists loosened. She looked up at him, a small smile flickering across her face, and she looked as if she were going to speak again — he held his hand up, silencing her for a final time. Her expression turned to one of puzzlement. He crossed the room quickly, easily, to stand by her side; she tipped her head, gazing at him in silence, and, awkwardly, he placed his hand upon her shoulder. It felt… different. It was something new, something unknown, and he squeezed slightly, his brow furrowing as he stared at her. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

"I was…"

At the table, Hanabi looked away.

A smile crossed her lips.

"_Worried_," he finished, with a small sigh, "I was worried."

Hiashi squeezed Hinata's shoulder again, before leaving the kitchen without another word. His footsteps squeaked as he crossed the hallway, heading towards the stairs and his study; he felt strangely calm, his mind oddly blank, and it came as a surprise to him when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. "Father, wait!" With his hand still on the banister of the stairs, he turned, staring at Hinata as she stood before him; her fists were clutched at her side again, and she looked almost angry, chest heaving as if she had finished a round of training — he wondered, maybe, if he had said something wrong.

And then she smiled.

It was a huge smile — a grin, even, and something that he hadn't seen for a long time. No, perhaps that wasn't quite correct; he had seen Hinata smile, and often too, but that smile hadn't been directed at him for a while. Shame pierced his heart, if only for a moment, and he felt such extreme sadness, that he couldn't look at her. Like his brother had been, he thought, she was too sunny for him to see; he had to shade his eyes, otherwise he was certain he would turn blind.

"Thank you," she said, her voice so quiet he barely heard it, and then, with that said, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

He stood where he was, listening as his daughters began to speak; he caught a few words, heard his nephew's name a few times, and listened as they broke into laughter every now and again. He must have stood there for a few minutes, rooted to the spot, but then the trance he was in finally broke, and he shook his head.

Some people are too kind to be shinobi, Hiashi thought, and made his way to his study.

**.**

**.**

After changing her clothes, as she'd been wearing them for two days almost, Hinata bid goodbye to her sister, and left again. Originally, when she'd returned home, she'd planned on heading to her bedroom for a little kip — nothing big, really, but she'd been tired then, and she wasn't now. Her head was buzzing, in fact, and she felt ever so slightly giddy; with a foolish smile plastered across her face, she made her way through Konoha, her hands clasped in front of her. She couldn't help but think of her father—

"_I was… worried."_

—and her smile grew ever so slightly wider. It had come as a surprise to her. His outburst had seemed so sudden, and his hand upon her shoulder had felt so… foreign, and yet oddly welcome. It felt as warm and big as it had when she was younger, and he used to lead her by her hand to her bed each night, with a glass of warm milk; she remembered his hand used to seem so large, then, and so strong. It hadn't changed at all, she thought, and she tipped her head back, gazing up at the sky. Everything seemed so peaceful. She felt so at ease, in fact, that she completely forgot what she was doing, and found herself bumping into someone — she staggered backwards, instantly holding her hands up in front of her.

Shino blinked back at her, his glasses slightly lopsided on his face; he had been clutching bags of groceries beneath his arms — fruit, she realised, upon getting a better glance —, but she'd knocked one of the two bags to the floor after bumping into him. Grapes spilt across the ground, rolling in the dirt before coming to a halt.

Immediately, she began to apologise.

"Sh—_Shino!_ I'm s—so, _so_ sorry," she spoke, her voice hasty as she dropped to her knees and began to gather the grapes; a few of them were a bit squashed, and guilt overwhelmed her. "I'm really sorry!"

"It was an accident," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "I accept your apology nonetheless, Hinata."

He gazed at her for a moment, watching as she scrambled about the floor, placing the ruined fruit into the brown paper bag; it had been trampled on, as she'd stood on it when she'd staggered backwards, but she was acting as if it had never happened. Her cheeks flushed red, he couldn't help but feel ever so slightly amused; with a small sigh, he held his hand out to her.

She stared back at him.

"Please, Hinata — I can buy more grapes, so stand up," he said, as his face softened into a smile; she looked ever so slightly hesitant, glancing down at the grapes once before taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. He began to walk and she immediately fell in time with him, walking without really thinking about it; he snuck a sideways glance at her, but didn't speak.

Hinata quite enjoyed the silence. It was always such a comfortable, welcoming silence, whenever she was around Shino; it was as if he knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, and exactly when to speak — or, rather, what _not _to do, what _not _to say and when _not _to speak —, and that was why she enjoyed his company so much. He knew her and she knew him, and that was that. That was why she wasn't surprised when she caught him glancing at her, and instead she took a bag of grocery off him — he spluttered his protests, but it was the least she could do to help him out — and asked him, "Where are you heading with all this stuff, a—anyway?"

"I'm visiting Kiba."

"With _fruit_?" Hinata replied, and couldn't stifle the laughter that left her lips.

Shino shrugged a shoulder, feeling the need to explain, "I am well aware of the fact that Kiba would have preferred something tasteless and chewy, but it is customary to bring fruit to hospital patients, and Kiba's diet is sadly lacking in the necessary dietary requirements like fruit. Besides," he added, with a gentle smile, "He cannot complain, as I also bought a bone for Akamaru."

Hinata couldn't help but laugh, then, as she thought of the expression that'd appear on Kiba's face when he saw Akamaru's treat — the fact that Shino'd bought him fruit, something he disliked more than anything else on the planet, was enough to make her burst out laughing then and there. But the fact that, to add insult to injury, Shino had then bought Akamaru a bone — a treat the dog enjoyed more than anything else — would just be too much. Kiba would complain non-stop, that was true, but it'd be worth it just to see his face.

"Do you plan on joining us?"

She nodded, with a grin. "That's an opportunity I c—cannot pass up."

"Indeed," Shino nodded, and they continued walking in silence.

**.**

**.**

When Hinata arrived at the hospital, Shino by her side, Kiba was up and dressed, perched on the windowsill and gazing outside; he looked bored, she thought, and just a little bit tired. His entire left arm was bandaged. She frowned at that, worry tugging at her heart; she hadn't noticed how extensive his injuries were until now — that night, when she'd found them, she hadn't really been thinking too much about it, and so it was only now that she realised how badly he'd been hurt. Still, his wounds didn't stop him from grinning upon seeing her, and throwing his (good) arm around her neck.

"Hey," he grinned, pulling away from her to give her a quick once-over — probably checking to see if she was alright, she thought, and couldn't help but wince at the irony —, before glancing over at Shino. "What's in the bag?"

"Gifts."

He tossed the bag over; Kiba caught it awkwardly in his good hand, balancing it on his bad arm to sort through the contents. He winced, jostling through the contents before scowling, glowering at Shino as he pulled out Akamaru's bone — his partner and friend let out a yip of joy, as he placed it on the ground, before attacking the bone with some ferocity. Kiba looked almost slightly jealous as he let out a sigh, resigning himself to having a banana instead; he held the bag out to Hinata, who sorted through and pulled out a small basket of strawberries, popping one into her mouth and relishing the taste of the sweet, sweet juices. She crossed the room, placing the basket in her lap and sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I guess," he shrugged, perching on the windowsill again. "My arm's useless, though — Shizune's been in and out, but she said it's going to be a few months before it heals properly, and even then it might not be as, uh, _good_ as it was before."

She bit her lip. "That's _awful."_

"It could be worse," Kiba shrugged again, before offering her a cocky grin. "I could be _dead. _Besides, I think I held my own — I can't really remember what happened all that well, anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter either way."

He took another bite of his banana, cringing at the taste.

"God, why are these things so _mushy?" _He muttered, before catching Hinata's curious gaze. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"What _h—happened?"_

She couldn't really stop herself from asking; the question slipped out of her mouth before she really had a chance to think it through, and, judging from the look on Kiba's face, it was a poor choice in questions, too. His expression went from one of slight irritation to thoughtfulness, and he took another bite of his banana, chewing slowly, carefully, murmuring something about them not being all that bad after all before falling silent again. Shino stayed where he was, entirely still, a statue frozen by time; he simply watched, as he often did, and waited.

Finally, Kiba spoke.

"You _know_ I'm not supposed to answer that, Hinata — it _was_ a mission, after all," he said, choosing his words carefully as he did so, his brow furrowed in concentration, "And there's not really all that much I can remember. One minute I was up and kicking, the next I was down and out; pathetic, really, but… the Akatsuki were there. We weren't even outnumbered. They… they told me Kakashi's missing, too, and I think—"

He cut himself off there, taking a huge bite out of the banana and then throwing the rest into the bin. His expression turned troubled; as if sensing his discomfort, Akamaru moved away from his bone, brushing himself against Kiba's leg.

"—I think he's dead," he continued, his voice hesitant. "We were… I'm pretty sure we were up against that Hoshigaki guy — Kisame, I think, and the man in the mask. I can't remember what Kakashi said, but it was an Uchiha something or other — Madara, or something. I don't know. I can't really remember all that much, I guess; I was unconscious for most of it. If they took him, then he's probably dead; I mean, Kakashi wouldn't give out any information on Konoha, because he's too… _strong_ for that. I don't know — I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"You've told Tsunade all you can remember," Shino stated, blankly.

"Well, duh," Kiba snapped, "What d'you think I am, _stupid?"_

"Completely."

"Don't be a jerk, I'm _wounded_—"

"That has nothing to do with your intelligence."

Hinata couldn't help but smile as she listened to the two bicker; it reminded her of how they'd been when they first became a team. The two boys had been constantly at each other's throats, arguing about who was the leader and who could give the instructions; as time had passed, however, they'd grown used to each other, and their bickering was far more playful, now. It was homely. Still, despite their arguing and despite the warmth it brought to her, she couldn't help but think of Kiba's words. They had been attacked by the Akatsuki.

By _Madara._

They were lucky to be alive.

A bitter coldness overcame her, and she couldn't stop herself from shuddering; only now was it apparent how close to death her cousin and friends had been. In fact, Kakashi was still missing — who knew what had happened to him? She couldn't help but feel sorry for Naruto; the not-knowing had to be worst of all. Absently, she found her thoughts moving to Sasuke. He had fallen silent when she'd told him about Kakashi; it was understandable, really, but it still surprised her. It wasn't that she hadn't expected him to care, but…

She trailed off.

He'd been so quick to change the subject, and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she ought to talk to him about it; after all, the two had shared a bond, even if Sasuke had tried his hardest to shatter that bond — even she could see that it was still there, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Perhaps, in fact, she ought to ask him more about everything; about the things that had happened to him, about the decisions he'd made; perhaps she ought to be trying to understand him, even if it hurt them both to do such a thing. No, that wasn't quite correct — she _did_ understand him, to a certain extent.

But she wanted to know _more. _

That thought struck her hard and fast; she'd never thought she'd get so attached to Sasuke, but there was this driving _need_, now. She wanted to know — she wanted him to be able to tell her these things. She wanted him to trust her, even though, to a certain extent, they were strangers. She wanted to know.

"Earth to Hinata," Kiba's voice cut across her thoughts, and she blinked, snapping back to reality. "Quit hogging the strawberries, they're the only fruit I can vaguely stand."

Still blinking, she handed over the basket, almost in a daze. Shino had fallen silent now, and was sat slightly forwards, his fingertips pressed together as he stared at her; it hadn't been that long, she thought, since she'd told him about Sasuke, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. Judging from the look on his face — disapproval, she thought, but hidden so brilliantly that she barely managed to pick out the emotion —, Hinata was certain he did.

She caught his gaze.

He nodded, a tiny movement that she only just caught.

"Who were you thinking about, anyway? Your face went all dazed and stupid, like it does when you think about Naruto — was that who you were thinking about, huh?" Kiba teased, popping a strawberry into his mouth but talking around the fruit nonetheless. "Who've you got a hot date with, then, Hinata?"

She felt herself turn red — a deep, bashful shade of red —, and she instantly brought her hands to her face, attempting to cover her expression. It was a little bit shameful, but she couldn't stop the grin from passing over her face; a childish, girly grin. Kiba didn't know how wrong he was, and, yet, how _right _he was. It wasn't Naruto she'd been thinking of — absently, she mused, she'd started thinking of him less and less —, but instead _Sasuke_; and if she thought of her little visits as _dates_, then her cheeks turned crimson and she couldn't stop the giddy smile from passing across her face.

Sat opposite her, Kiba's eyes widened and his grin turned into a fully-fledged smirk, "I was right, then; you were thinking naughty thoughts about Naruto, weren't you? How _saucy."_

Hinata began to splutter her protests, as Kiba's taunts grew louder and louder; he began to make kissing noises, wrapping his good arm around his body and slipping his hand up and down his back, acting in that immature way only boys can. Letting out a quiet wail of despair, unable to stop her face from turning dark, dark red as she found herself unwillingly pondering on what naughty thoughts she could be thinking, Hinata pressed her head into her hands and found herself giggling. Even Shino was smiling slightly, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two with some amusement.

This was normal.

This was safe.

Sat there laughing with her two best friends, Hinata couldn't help but think how much it all reminded her of old times, when they were young and naive and just _beginning_. It was such a perfect moment, that she couldn't help but laugh and laugh and laugh, her head tipped back and a grin plastered across her face.

A part of her couldn't help but think that maybe she and Sasuke were just beginning, too.

**.**

**.**

Sasuke was reminiscing, too, when Hinata arrived.

Her news about Kakashi had shocked him, and he'd felt an odd numbing sensation overcome him; he'd mostly been able to forget about it, when Hinata was there to distract him, but the moment she'd gone, he'd found himself dwelling on the fact that his childhood mentor — his living memory — was gone. He was missing in action; dead, more likely, but he'd attempted to banish the thought from his mind; still, the dull aching in his heart hadn't disappeared, and the niggling idea had still been there.

Upon her departure, he'd found himself… _remembering. _They were memories he'd thought he'd forgotten; he'd lost them, he thought, when he joined Orochimaru. No, not lost — he had chosen to forget, or had attempted to do that, and somehow they'd resurfaced. They were silly little memories; unimportant, small things, like the way Sakura used to rub her nose when she was embarrassed, and the day he and Naruto had trained together late into the night, before sitting together to watch the sun rise into the sky. He remembered the day Kakashi appeared at his bedroom window, making him start with fear, falling out of his bed in a tumble of blankets, pillows and old shirts his father had worn; he'd started wearing them not long after the massacre, because it had made him feel bigger — _stronger. _He remembered making Kakashi promise not to tell Naruto, because it had been _embarrassing._

Kakashi had held that secret above him, using it as blackmail, all the while smirking and chuckling and grinning, until Sasuke found the hidden stash of adult books in his sensei's home, and had threatened to burn them all.

The secret had stayed a secret, then.

The thought made him smile — just a tiny, little smile, and it vanished as quickly as it came. He wanted to run a hand through his hair, to sigh, to stretch, to _run_, but any movement was difficult in his restrictions; all of him ached. Absently, he wondered what Naruto was doing; if he was maybe training, or out on a mission, or trying to find their oldest friend and greatest sensei — _only_ sensei, he corrected; Kakashi had been the only one who'd mattered. God, it _hurt_ to think about it all.

His mind moved to Hinata, and he wondered where she was and what she was doing. A part of him hoped she was on her way; that she was already passing Ibiki, nodding in greeting or asking him how he was or whatever the hell she did. A part of him hoped that she would open that door right then and there, that she'd smile at him and tell him that they'd found Kakashi and everything was alright. All of him, however, knew that latter part was never going to happen, and that _did_ hurt.

The former — Hinata's arrival — was true.

Within moments of him thinking those thoughts, the door swung open. Stood in the doorway, Hinata bowed her head in greeting, her hands clasped in front of her; she looked bigger than normal, he thought, and her cheeks were tinged slightly pink. She was smiling. She looked happy. Her eyes met his and they lingered for just a fraction too long; he sensed something like curiosity swirling in their depths, and he looked away, his expression turning blank. He was distantly aware of the two ANBU leaving their posts, disappearing to stand outside, as Hinata made her way over to the only chair — _her_ chair —, and sat down.

"Has there—?"

He broke off. The words choked his throat; they felt cruel and thick and too much, and he fell silent. It didn't matter, though; Hinata knew he was talking about Kakashi, and she shook her head.

"There's been n—no word, Sasuke," she practically whispered, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear her speak. "He, ah… Shinobi are searching for him, but he — he hasn't been found. Not yet, a—anyway."

"Hn," a non-committal grunt left his lips, and he looked away. If he was going to be truthful to himself, he had to admit that he hadn't really expected anything less than that. He wondered why it hurt so much; all shinobi had been trained to prepare themselves for moments like this. There was _always_ a chance that a friend, a comrade, a teacher, a _father_ might not return from a mission; there was _always_ the risk of death.

He'd killed his own _brother. _This shouldn't be affecting him. It shouldn't be affecting him, at all. It couldn't hurt him. It shouldn't. It wouldn't.

It _couldn't._

So why the hell did it _hurt_ so much?

He needed to think about anything else, about _something_ else, and so he glanced up at Hinata, his eyes catching hers; her eyes widened ever so slightly, but he sensed she understood, and so she began to talk. "On my way here, Sasuke, I was, ah, I was thinking about when I was at the academy," she spoke, words tumbling over one another in her haste to distract him, and he couldn't help but soften at the sight of her trying. "I don't know if you remember — you p—probably don't —, but there was that day when those ANBU turned up at school. It was that t—talk, remember? They told us about missions and different ranks and all that important stuff that Iruka hadn't told us, yet."

"I remember," Sasuke nodded.

Hinata's expression brightened. "Well, I remember that before that, I was _really_ nervous; my h—heart kept pattering, and I wasn't sure what to say or do, because I think Chouji or someone said it was going to be a test. If I failed, I thought my f—father would be so angry, so I studied all the night before; I read over all the textbooks and notes from c—class, and I trained until really early in the morning, and all because someone had told me that if I failed, I'd never get to be a kunoichi ever.

I stayed up so late, I ended up feeling ever so t—tired in the morning. I could barely stay awake, but I was so _excited_, that it didn't matter. I don't know if you felt like that — you probably didn't —, but I _really_ wanted to prove myself to the ANBU."

She trailed off, looking embarrassed as the childhood memory resurfaced.

"I, ah… I ended up falling asleep during the t—talk."

Sasuke chuckled then. He did remember the lecture Hinata was talking about, but he had been nowhere near as excited as she'd been; when he was younger, he'd listened to Itachi give the same lecture. His older brother had been one of the ANBU to talk to the young academy students, back when they were younger, and so he'd heard most of it before; but, at the time, he _had_ heard the rumour that there was going to be a test of some sort. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd studied frantically too — as had most of the class —, but he hadn't fallen asleep in the lecture.

"When the talk ended, I was so upset that I'd missed it, that I went and c—cried in the girl's bathroom for a little while," Hinata admitted, her cheeks turning slightly red as she pressed her fingers together, her voice growing gradually quieter and quieter. "I told Iruka, and he reassured me that he'd find a way for me to hear it again; a few days later, one of the ANBU came back in, just to have a talk to me. I felt r—really special, I guess, like all children do when they get singled out like that; for a _good _reason. But I was a—also a bit worried, because I thought they'd be cross, so I didn't — I didn't want to go, either.

But, despite my initial worries, I ended up going anyway.

It was a woman I ended up talking to; she was very n—nice, and she told me everything I wanted to know a—and more. She asked me why I was so tired, and I said I'd been up all night studying because I thought there was going to be a test and I had to prove myself because I wanted to be a shinobi, and she—"

Hinata stopped.

For a moment, she simply sat there, staring down at her hands and thinking; her face screwed up with concentration, she looked ever so slightly unsure, as if trying to pick together the right words, the perfect memories, to try and explain what had happened.

"'It's not in my place to judge,'" she spoke, finally. "That's what the ANBU s—said; 'it's not in my place to judge'. She was one of the first people to tell me to stop trying to prove myself, because people will judge you either way — but the people who are truly your friends, they _won't_ judge. I know it's a massive c—cliché, Sasuke, but… I won't judge _either. _So p—please, when you need to s—speak, don't hide it all; don't bottle it all up, because you don't need to prove you're a statue to m—me. I _won't _judge."

She looked at him then, and he found himself shocked at what he saw; a fierce determination burned in her eyes, a stubbornness he'd only seen once before, mirrored in his own gaze as he set out to kill his brother. It was scary, he knew that, but he also knew she wouldn't judge; that she was perhaps one of the only people he knew who _wouldn't. _She was still a stranger, at times, that was true; but sometimes, she just seemed so familiar.

(A woman with dark hair, pale skin and paler eyes danced in his dreams.

He banished the thought.)

He found himself wanting, then, to just let it all out; to tell her _everything_, an urge he'd felt a few times before when speaking to her. He wanted to tell her that he had no regrets, and yet he regretted everything; he wanted to tell her about Itachi and the secret of the Uchiha clan; he wanted to tell her that he'd grown up too fast. He wanted to unload, to spill out every single thought he'd ever had, to tell her his fears and secrets. He wanted it all to mean something to her.

But that idea still scared him, and so he simply closed his eyes. "Thank you, Hinata," he said, and then fell silent.

They sat like that for a little while, the silence growing heavier and heavier; he thought that maybe she was waiting, but when he opened her eyes, he thought she looked a little bit sad. Her shoulders slumped slightly, contrasting with how rigid she'd been earlier as she told her story, and her hands were loose in her lap. He wondered, maybe, if she'd given up.

She stood up.

"It was n—nice talking to you, Sasuke," she said, bowing her head in farewell. "I h—hope you feel better soon. If I receive any news about… about Kakashi, I will inform you immediately."

With that, she was gone and Sasuke was left in silence. He stared for a moment, unable to really comprehend what had happened; a memory flashed across his mind — a memory of a pink-haired girl clutching him tightly, crying as she begged him not to leave her, to open up to her —, and then it was gone.

His head hurt.

(So did his heart.)

**.**

**.**

Hinata wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected to happen; she'd known for a fact that Sasuke wouldn't open up immediately, and yet it had still stung as he'd brushed her pseudo-confession away. With a bitter chuckle, she thought this was the second boy to simply turn their back on her after she'd spilled her secrets; but, with that thought, she felt a little bit guilty. It hadn't been Naruto's fault, not really; he'd tried to keep their date, but things had spiralled out of control and he _had_ made it up to her, eventually.

And it wasn't Sasuke's fault, either.

There were certain things she was certain he simply couldn't tell her; secrets too deep, feelings too strong, that he undoubtedly just didn't want to share them. He obviously wasn't ready to loosen his guard entirely, and he probably thought she'd said it just because she'd _had_ to; that maybe Tsunade had put her up to it, because she _was_ supposed to be gathering information for the Hokage, after all. It had still hurt, though, the fact that he still considered her to be a stranger to him. She wanted that to change. And it _could _change, she thought, with time.

With smile on her face, she decided she would wait; after all, Hinata had always been very good at waiting.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**notes: **So yeah, I decided to leave it on a hopeful note. SasuHina is blossoming, guys! :)


	21. day 21

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **this one is for Mishirure, because she called me her hero, and I've always wanted to be a hero. (I shall probably send you some brainstorming ideas at some point soon!) ;D

**chapter: **21/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

Hi guys!

I am so, so, so, so sorry this always takes so long. I always write half of it, forget that I've started writing, and then end up finishing the second half of the chapter a month later — but I will try my hardest to update quicker this time. I know I say the same thing every single time, but I will actually make an effort this time.

But anyway!

Excuses as to why this is so late: I broke up with my girlfriend, which was pretty tragic, because that was my first time being dumped. I also discovered Supernatural, so I've been obsessing over that. I'm going to see Batman Live at the weekend. I've signed up to join copious Big Bang competitions over at LJ, most of them for Supernatural, but a few for Sherlock, X-Men and Doctor Who. I've got to complete a sketchbook of art in a week and a half, and I've only done a page. I get my first GCSEs tomorrow. I fell in love with Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, James Mcavoy, Michael Fassbender and Matt Smith.

Life is _sweet._

And on with the show. Hope you enjoy!

:D

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hinata had begun daydreaming a lot more than usual, lately; she'd find herself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, gazing off into the distance and thinking of other things. More often than not, she found herself dreaming of other _people _— or, rather, one specific person, and that meant a lot more than she was willing to believe. She'd spent a good amount of time wondering why it was that she found herself so transfixed by Sasuke.

She supposed it was because she was the only one who visited him, and thus was his only guest; while she felt an overwhelming surge of pity and despair for her friend, she couldn't help but feel something else, as well. She couldn't place the feeling. It was a little bit of something, which sparked deep inside her; it was powerful, so strong that sometimes it was all she could think of, and she couldn't help but wonder what the emotion was. It wasn't that she was _happy_ she was Sasuke's only guest — that would have been ridiculously, cruelly selfish of her —, but she'd be lying if she said it didn't fill her with a sense of sick power. If she were to stop visiting Sasuke, for any reason at all, he would have no guests. She wouldn't want that, of course, but still, the thought didn't vanish.

Besides, she doubted she'd ever see fit not to visit Sasuke, or to try and attempt to contact him in some way, with letters as she had done before. She was his _friend_, after all; and friends looked out for one another.

That was also a new feeling.

Before now, she'd never have considered herself to be Sasuke's friend; she hadn't known Sasuke all that well, and had been one of the many who simply watched from a distance. She supposed that was her fault — after all, she was like that with anyone; she had most certainly been like that with Naruto, and she doubted things had really changed between them. Even now, she still watched and admired him from afar, never quite strong enough to really stand as his equal.

But Sasuke…

No, she considered him to be a friend now, and that partly confused her. She hadn't started visiting Sasuke with the intention of befriending him — she'd been thinking only of Naruto, and her heart had screamed out in agony for him; that was why she had begun visiting Sasuke. She hadn't wanted to gain his gratitude or his friendship; while she wasn't one to immediately judge, to say she hadn't been ever so slightly influenced by the general opinion of the traitorous Uchiha was a lie. She had expected him to be far worse than he was; she'd expected initial hostility, sure — he _was_, after all, a prisoner, and she doubted anyone would be in the happiest of moods if they were captured by enemies —, but she'd expected more hostility and animosity than he'd given.

Really, when she thought about it, he'd been perfectly docile, even from the beginning; there had been a few moments in which he'd snapped at her, but that was only when she had pressed too hard, or when she had snapped at him. No, from the very beginning, she realised with slight shock, he'd been willing and welcome to let her in; of course he'd kept a few secrets from her, but she knew things about Sasuke that she'd never known before. She'd begun to understand his mannerisms; he'd let her in, and she had been more than willing to _be _let in.

And now, as a result, she considered him a friend.

Hinata couldn't help but wonder if he considered her to be his friend, as well; she doubted she would ever reach the ranks of Naruto and Sakura, who were as close to Sasuke as she supposed anyone could actually get, but the idea that he considered her to be any type of friend was nice. Her cheeks began to heat up at the thought, and she blinked, eyes widening.

"What'cha thinkin' of?"

Hinata practically leapt out of her seat then, letting out a little squeak of surprise as she turned to look at Naruto; she'd been sat in Ichiraku's ramen stand for the past ten or so minutes, her bowl of ramen growing steadily colder in front of her, and she'd once again slipped into her own thoughts, girlishly pondering Sasuke and her friendship and — oh, she hadn't even noticed Naruto slip into the seat beside her. Judging from the gradually growing stack of empty ramen bowls by his side, he'd probably been there for some time. Her cheeks became scarlet with embarrassment, and she offered him an apologetic smile.

"How long have you been s—sat there for?"

"Long enough," Naruto grinned, waving his chopsticks idly. "I spotted you sat here and I thought, 'Hey, I'll go and surprise Hinata!', but you were just sat here all glassy-eyed and staring off into the distance. Ichiraku said you've been lookin' all dopey for some time, but I figure that for you to get such a serious expression on your face, you've got to be thinking about something important."

He scrutinized her, then; he looked at her so fiercely, as if he were staring _into _her and seeing her properly — it was a stare she was used to from Sasuke, she realised, and she shivered despite herself, trying to pass it off as a half-shrug.

"I was, uhm… just thinking, I suppose."

Naruto didn't stop looking at her, but he did nod slowly, slurping up another mouthful of noodles and chewing slowly. He was still staring at her as if he was trying to figure her out, but Hinata forced herself to ignore that, looking down at her bowl of ramen. Tentatively, she tried a bit; it was stone-cold, as expected, and she regretfully ordered another — she hadn't intended spending so much on lunch, but she _was_ hungry so she figured she might as well. When her dish arrived, so hot it burnt her tongue, Naruto finally looked away.

The pair fell into silence, sat shoulder to shoulder, eating their separate dishes. Hinata decided to rephrase what she'd thought earlier; while she didn't really consider herself to be Naruto's equal, she certainly felt as if she were his equal, sat by his side. She snuck a sideways glance at him, a pang of sympathy running through her; for the past few days, he'd been searching non-stop for Kakashi, but his sensei still hadn't appeared. Obviously that was taken its toll on the usually-sunny boy. He looked weary, with bags beneath his eyes and she supposed it was a trick of the light, but it seemed as if his face had more shadows than usual.

Worst of all, though, was the fact that he was visibly slumped — his entire body seemed to sag downwards, as if he were utterly defeated, and that almost broke her heart. She bit her lip, glancing down at her bowl and then looking at Naruto's steadily-emptying one; then, with a soft sigh, she pushed her bowl over to him.

He glanced up at her, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not hungry," she lied, with a small smile, "But I d—don't want to waste such good food."

Naruto flashed a cheery grin. "Thanks, Hinata! You know you're the best, right?"

"I k—know," she agreed, unable to stop herself; he chuckled at that, shaking his head fondly before dragging her bowl closer to himself. She watched as he twisted the noodles about his chopsticks, slurping them up and smacking his lips, grinning at her all the while; she much preferred Naruto like this, she realised — the silence beforehand had alarmed her. She'd always considered him to be innocent, despite the fact that he had to be one of the most experienced and shattered shinobi she knew; but, despite everything that had happened to him, he still kept his dazzling smile and wished the best of people.

He was still Naruto.

That was pretty amazing in itself, she thought, especially considering everything that had happened to him lately; she felt her heart ache for him, a pang of sympathy running through her as she gazed at him. She'd seen his hurt, when Sasuke had been captured; and that hurt had only intensified into pure, unrelenting agony, when he'd been unable to go and visit his friend. She realised, with mute horror, that the only time Naruto would be able to see Sasuke again was when his friend — his best friend; his _brother _— was executed. That, in itself, had to be unbearable; but Sasuke's sentence coupled with the loss of his sensei, his surrogate father… She could barely even begin to imagine the pain he was going through.

She realised he was standing up, then, having finished the bowl of ramen she'd passed to him; he stretched, placed some coins down on the counter, and then glanced at Hinata, as if uncertain as to whether or not she was going to follow. She smiled at him, standing up and bowing her head in thanks; she hadn't eaten her ramen, sure, but it was the polite thing to do. Absently, she wondered if there were any cinnamon rolls at home, as she followed Naruto out of the ramen stand and into the busy street.

The market was in full swing, and they walked down the road in contemplative silence, contrasting with the busyness around them. It was as if the entire world was rushing, hurrying, dashing about, but Hinata couldn't see it. All she could think of was the silent, sombre boy by her side, so different to the usual shining spark of happiness he was. When he smiled reassuringly at her, it seemed to be a shadow of his usual grin.

It was as if someone had taken his kaleidoscopic, rainbow smile, and painted it black and white.

Her hand twitched by her side.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, in an attempt to offer him at least the tiniest amount of comfort. She remembered Neji and how much it had terrified her when she'd found Tenten and Kiba, but hadn't seen her cousin with them; that shock and horror, accompanied with a cruel, terrible doubt, had been almost enough to overwhelm her. She'd felt helpless and useless. She wondered, absently, what she would have done if it were _Neji _everyone was trying so desperately to find; she knew she would be the first in the search party, that much was obvious to her, but what would she do if they _hadn't _found him? What would she have done if they had simply given up?

She _did_ move her hand then, placing it gently on the crook of Naruto's arm. He ground to a halt and she stopped next to him — then, ever so slowly, he raised an eyebrow, giving her a quick sideways glance. His expression switched from one of bewilderment to one of cold realisation, and he shifted his arm away.

"You don't need to look at me like that, Hinata," he spoke finally, as he turned away from her, wrapping an arm across his chest defensively, "I'm not some little kid you have to tip-toe around, with pity in your eyes; I've… seen worse things. I fought with _Pein_, Hinata; I saw him strike you down, and I know plenty of shinobi fall in the line of duty. That's how… that's how Jiraiya fell. It's a… a valiant death."

He fell silent then; his words felt false to taste and even falser to hear. Hinata peered at him, reminded of the boy she'd seen a week or so earlier, when she'd come to offer her condolences after Sasuke's capture — he had lashed out at her, claiming she could never understand what he was going through, and she was reminded once again of their differences. She still had everyone she needed, while Naruto seemed to be losing them one by one, an awful domino effect that just wouldn't go away. First Jiraiya, then Kakashi, and eventually Sasuke, too.

He'd been searching for Kakashi for the past few days; in fact, this was the first time she'd seen him return to Konoha for any lengthy period. He was weary and saddened; he seemed to have realised the hopelessness of his situation — because Kakashi was _never_ coming back, she realised —, and that was finally taking its toll on the boy with the sunny grin. This was something he couldn't paint a smile over; he couldn't pretend everything was alright, because it _hurt. _It hurt just as much as when he'd found out Jiraiya was dead; it hurt and hurt and _hurt_, and she wondered if he was coupling it with the pain of losing Sasuke — because, despite having found his friend, Sasuke was now even further away than before, being kept at arm's length by Naruto's _friends. _

Despite the pain, though, she knew she didn't want him to give up.

Partly out of selfishness, partly for herself — she had built Naruto up into something of a hero in her mind; she had never really seen him falter; she had always seen the boy who smiled, the boy who laughed through the pain; the boy who _carried on. _But, most of all, she didn't want him to give up, because who knew what else would happen, then? Who else would he give up on?

_Sasuke._

Unsure of what else to do, she took a step forwards and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was a tentative hug, a tiny gesture of affection that she doubted would really mean all that much to Naruto — but he surprised her, letting out a guttural sob. His fingers, strong and calloused, gripped her wrists; not quite holding her in place, but not really pushing her away either. His entire body was trembling.

She stayed where she was stood, resting her head against his back, holding him tightly; she doubted he'd been held in such a way for a long time, and she wondered absently if she should have a word with Sakura. She dismissed the thought instantly — that was hardly fair on Sakura, who was going through the exact same troubles as Naruto. She couldn't force Sakura to forget about her own worries to comfort Naruto, but perhaps she could drop a few hints suggesting they search for comfort with one another. After all, they're the only two people who could even begin to understand what the other was going through.

For what felt like minutes, they stood like that and, eventually, Hinata's thoughts blurred into nothing. She just stayed where she was, listening to the sound of shallow breathing and a muffled heartbeat.

After an age, Naruto's grip on her wrists vanished, and he shifted slightly; she let her hands drop to her sides. At first, he didn't turn around, his hands flying to his face — she didn't want to think that he was wiping away tears but when he turned around, his cheeks were glistening. Still, he offered her a grin; it wavered to begin with, but then it shone so brightly that it made her heart hurt.

"Thanks, Hinata," he mumbled, sounding ever so slightly bashful; his cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment. "You always know what to say and do, and… ah… just thanks, I guess. I'll—I'll see you around."

He turned, then, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets, and began to walk away, ever so slowly; with his head tilted downwards, he looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. For once in her life, Hinata thought he looked lonely; a little bit lost, really, without his friends — without Kakashi and Sakura and Sasuke and everyone — to ground him. It was as if he were floating off into the distance — a lonely balloon, drifting into a cloudy sky — and Hinata had to run her very fastest to keep up with him.

She knew she would never catch him.

She cupped her hand around her mouth, before shouting after him, "Whatever you do, don't give up, N—Naruto!"

He stiffened.

Then, looking back over his shoulder, he grinned.

"I'll try not to," and his voice was as quiet as a whisper, but she still heard him. "I promise."

.

.

.

When Sasuke opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Tsunade sat in front of him, her hands folded in her lap as she glowered at him. Her face was mostly impassive, but her true emotions were obvious in her tight-lipped grimace and her flashing eyes; she sat rigid and proud, gazing fixedly at the Uchiha. He would have tilted his head, but he still felt weary from sleep, and so he simply blinked at her, confusion apparent on his features — it wasn't often that he found himself with an audience of the Hokage, and that tended to only ever happen when she wanted something from him.

Still, if she _wanted _something, that meant she had something she thought he'd appreciate; she had an offer which, were he to accept it, would only end in him gaining something. It would be nice to stretch his legs, now that he thought about it; to roll his arms, pop his shoulders, crack his neck, and to just feel _free_. The discomfort was really beginning to get to him, as he supposed it would for any prisoner; he figured Ibiki had probably designed the cells to be that way, and he had to commend the older man on his brilliant design — they truly were some of the most uncomfortable things he'd ever had the misfortune to wear, and he was sure his limbs were beginning to cramp up.

God, most of all, he just wanted to _walk._

He peered at Tsunade then, hoping that his bored expression would prompt her to hurry up with whatever deal she planned on making; for information, or whatever. He would say no, of course, despite the burning need to move about — he still had his pride, after all, and if there was anything an Uchiha valued, it was their pride. He wasn't about to give in, just because the Hokage thought she had one up on him.

However, when she still made no attempt to speak, Sasuke found himself yawning. "…are you just going to stare at me all day, or did you want something?" He raised an eyebrow, before closing his eyes, his face a picture of blank disinterest, as if he didn't care either way whether or not she decided to tell him what she wanted.

For a few seconds, Sasuke thought she _wasn't _going to tell him what she wanted.

Then, with a sigh, Tsunade leaned forwards, linking her hands together and staring at Sasuke over the tips of her fingers. "You're a smart boy, Uchiha," she said, before pausing, re-thinking her words. "Well, I suppose that's arguable, considering some of the decisions you've made — but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, and we'll assume for now that you're a smart enough boy. I'm sure you've realised that, as with any other prisoner of war, I'm under a considerable amount of pressure to squeeze every last drop of information I can get out of you."

Sasuke snorted.

Tsunade sighed, pulling her hands apart so that she could massage her forehead slowly. She closed her eyes, sitting opposite him in complete silence — he watched her think, tilting his head slightly as he did so. He was vaguely curious as to what sort of conclusion she'd come to; he could tell she was getting desperate. Earlier, he'd thought she'd had something on him — something she could try and use against him — but he was wrong.

Finally, she let out a long, weary sigh.

"There are many different ways I could go about this, Uchiha," she murmured. "I could torture you under the vain hope that you broke — that you snapped and gave in — but, considering how well that's worked prior to this moment, I doubt that'd help any, even _if _Ibiki thinks differently. You're strong; that's how you were trained, and you were trained by only the greatest — because no matter what I personally think of Orochimaru, he _was_ one of the greatest. No, torture wouldn't work, and I know that — so I could try demanding the truth from you. I could say that you owe it to your village—"

He scoffed at that.

The Hokage carried on as if he'd never made a sound.

"—I could say that you owe it to your _friends_; to Naruto and Sakura and Kakashi — hell, even to _Hinata_. I could say that but," and she paused, regarding him coolly, searching his face for any signs of recognition — for any signs that he might be breaking, that he might tell her anything, and she sighed, because his feelings were well masked and hidden, "But I know it wouldn't work. So I'm going to, for lack of better words, pull out my trump card."

She hesitated then; she looked mildly irritated with herself, as if this was something she hadn't wanted to do, but there was also a small amount of hope in her eyes. She looked up. She met Sasuke's stare, and her gaze was cool, even, steady.

"Kakashi is missing," she spoke. "I'm sure you're aware of that fact."

"Hn."

"We have reason to believe he was taken by the Akatsuki; he hasn't been found yet. We have his last known co-ordinates, helpfully supplied by Hyuuga Neji, here," she gestured for Ibiki to step forwards.

He did, carrying with him a map.

He spread it out across the table, unfurling the edges; it covered most of the surface, and Sasuke could only just make out the different villages on it. It didn't matter, though — he knew the map almost off by heart. It was a standard issue map, one that was given to all Konoha shinobi, and he'd memorised it back when he was a genin, under Kakashi's strict supervision. Sakura had remembered where everywhere was first of all, because Sasuke had let himself get distracted by Naruto; they'd spent most of their time scowling and muttering insults at each other. Eventually, however, he'd gotten to a point where he could sketch out a rough copy of it on his own.

Sasuke stared down at it, an eyebrow raised. There was a red capital X marked somewhere in a patch of forest, not too far away from Konoha, heading in the direction of Kirigakure. Something hurt inside him then, and he suddenly felt heavy; that was where Kakashi had last been seen. He stared at the spot until his eyes went blurry.

Then he looked back up at Tsunade.

She was watching him carefully with a hawk-like intensity, an unfamiliar expression on her face; when she caught his gaze, her lips curled into a smile. He thought she looked slightly triumphant. He looked away.

"You want my help," he stated blankly. "Why?"

"I thought it was obvious," she replied, her voice cool. "I want to save Kakashi."

He stared at her.

He felt tired.

"That's a lie," he murmured, and his words were laced with a thick darkness, something deadly and poisonous. "Those aren't your sole intentions, whether they are your intentions at all. Tell the truth."

Tsunade scowled then, glowering at the Uchiha.

"Like I said before, brat; you're smart enough. _I _want nothing more than to find and save Kakashi — and that should be more than enough for you to help out. We should be trying to save him, not talking… politics, or whatever this nonsense is. But fine — _fine. _I also need to show results; I need to prove to the Elders, to the Council, that my decision to let Hinata continue visiting you was a _good _decision. I fought tooth and nail, saying that you wouldn't buckle under violence — you're not a bad guy. True, you're not a _good _guy either, per say, but you're not a _bad _guy."

He was silent for a moment, pouring over this new information. He closed his eyes, reshuffling the facts, trying to figure something out; absently, opening his eyes again, he peered down at the map. His eyes fell on the red X almost straight away. It was a beacon. It was a bullet. It hurt to look at, bright and angry and violent, and he felt as though it was mocking him — that was where Kakashi was, or somewhere near there, but he was useless.

He met Tsunade's gaze.

"I see."

"Will you help us?"

Sasuke looked back at the map again, sighing. "I can't."

"…_why?" _Her voice was dangerous — a near-hiss, her knuckles turning white as she leaned forwards, gripping the edge of the table so tightly that her fingers began to crush it.

"I have no relevant information," he explained, making a little shrugging motion — or it would have been a shrug, had he not been so tightly bound. "There are no Akatsuki bases near there, as far as I can remember; but I wasn't exactly a long-term member. There was an abandoned town a few miles north-east of that area, though; I passed through it with—"

He blinked, cutting himself off.

He had passed through the village with Team Hebi when they were hunting for Itachi; he remembered, because it was the closest he had ever gotten to returning home. Absently, he realised he hadn't thought of Team Hebi once; when he'd gone to fight Itachi, he had practically abandoned them, disappearing without a trace — he hadn't been entirely sure he would win the fight, and so he'd left them behind.

Thinking of them now, he felt a sharp pang.

He wondered whether or not Suigetsu and Karin were ripping each other apart yet, or whether Juugo had managed to act the mediator between them and calm them down before they could kill each other. He wondered if, in return, Suigetsu and Karin had figured out how to stop Juugo when he went on rampages. He wondered if he'd pissed them off by leaving. He wondered if it was Naruto and Sakura and Kakashi all over again—

And then he decided to stop wondering.

Dismissing the thoughts, he cleared his throat — and his mind —, his expression turning blank. "I passed through it with my old teammates. We stayed there for a week or so. It was only small, mostly old shacks with a few empty market-stalls. They could have stayed there — but, if they did, they'll have left by now."

"We can't be too sure."

"We can," Sasuke replied. "They'll be gone."

And Kakashi would be dead.

The words weren't said, but they were left hanging in the air; they were so obviously there, so apparent to all those in the room, that Sasuke thought he could almost see them. Tsunade fixed him with a sceptical, searching look, before nodding sharply, standing up. "Alright, Uchiha," she said, nodding again. "Thank you for your co-operation. We _will _find him."

"Hn."

He watched patiently as she walked over to the door. Ibiki was first out, holding it open for the Hokage, but she stayed where she was; her shoulders were tense and she was slightly hunched over. He couldn't see her expression, but she turned around and he decided he'd preferred it when he hadn't seen her face.

Her eyes were sad.

_Pitying._

"Earlier, Uchiha, when I told you about Hinata," she said, and he didn't reply — he didn't even acknowledge she'd spoken, just continued staring straight through her in the hope that she'd leave. "She didn't come here with the intention of pumping you for information; in fact, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She's made no leeway, because she hasn't been trying — because it's the last thing on her mind. That's a good thing, I suppose, but it's also bad; if you don't tell her something soon, if she doesn't report to me with something helpful, she won't be visiting you anymore."

She sighed.

"She's a nice girl, Uchiha."

"I know."

"Try not to hurt her too much," she said, and with that the Hokage was gone.

.

.

.

When Hinata went to visit Sasuke that evening, she found that he was oddly quiet. Upon entering the room, he didn't even look up; he didn't acknowledge her at all, staring steadily at a spot on the wall opposite him — he didn't even glance at her when she sat down in front of him. Behind her, the ANBU exchanged glances, but that meant nothing to Hinata, and she found herself bewildered.

She sat in silence for a moment, before finally speaking.

"Uhm…"

He didn't even look at her.

That sort of stung.

She flinched, looking away, feeling her cheeks flush scarlet. "I, ah—I… Hello, Sasuke. Are you—? Do you—? I mean, I w—wondered… I…"

Finally, he looked at her.

Hinata wasn't sure whether she should feel relief — which she did at first, and it coursed through her, involuntarily causing her to smile and let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding — or cold horror, because the look he gave her was so unlike any other look he'd given her before. It was cruelly blank; cold and indifferent, as if she was nothing and had always been nothing, and it shocked her, because she'd thought they were… Well, she'd thought they were more than this. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She couldn't hold his stare for too long; it made her eyes prick painfully, and she could feel them heating up, and that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she _needed. _She swallowed, but her mouth felt dry. While she couldn't meet his gaze, she could look at other parts of him, and she focused on watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat, her eyes tracing his collarbones, trying desperately to distract herself from that cold stare. Her shoulders hunched and she shrank down in her seat, huddling in her jacket, staring resolutely at his chest.

She wondered if that was really any better than meeting his stare, but she banished the thought. Then she realised she was being a coward. Biting her lip, she looked up.

His lips curled into a half-smile.

It was crooked and sad and tired, but it was definitely a smile.

She let herself relax.

"The Hokage visited me earlier," he said quietly, and she tensed, blinking; she tried to figure out what Tsunade could have wanted, but her thoughts were still muddled from trying to figure out that intense stare — she didn't notice him watching her carefully. "She wanted information to help her find Kakashi."

She didn't question the careful indifference in his voice. It wasn't in her place to mention it, but she did feel a pang of sorrow for him; it must have been evident in her eyes, because Sasuke's own eyes flashed momentarily. There was something there she didn't understand. It looked like confusion, but that didn't make sense. There was betrayal there, too — hurt and anger and sorrow, and none of it made any _sense. _

Hinata decided she'd think about it later.

Instead, she offered a weak, hopefully comforting smile, and said, "They'll find him, S—Sasuke."

"They will," he agreed, but his tone was off. He sounded solemn; he wasn't optimistic, and he was already preparing himself for the harsh truth. He'd already given up. "Especially if Naruto's on the case. That idiot never knows when to give up," he almost chuckled, and his expression turned vaguely fond.

She didn't reply.

The conversation lapsed into silence then.

She took the opportunity to peer at Sasuke, trying to figure out what had happened; that couldn't have been all there was to Tsunade's visit. He was acting strange, differently to usual. She wouldn't say anything, but she thought he was acting a little bit like he was trapped — she supposed that was a silly thought really, since he _was _trapped, but he'd never acted like it before. She'd always felt as though he just _wasn't _— like he was only there because he let himself be there.

Now, though…

Now he seemed smaller.

Older.

She wondered what else the Hokage could have said to make him act in such a manner; she wondered what it was that could have hit him so hard, so powerfully, that even he wasn't able to mask his true feelings. He wasn't able to hide the fact that there was definitely something wrong. It was plain on his face, in his actions, in his words, in his silence — and she desperately wanted to ask, but she felt that he wouldn't tell her even if she did. She thought he'd probably just dismiss her questions and change the topic.

She didn't like that, though; she'd hoped that by now he felt as though he could confide in her. Obviously she wasn't expecting to know all of his deepest, darkest secrets — he _was _Uchiha Sasuke, after all. She doubted anyone would ever get to know his darkest secrets. No, she just wanted to be someone he could trust to tell about the little things. She wanted him to tell her what was bothering him.

She knew she wouldn't say anything.

Instead, Hinata settled for fiddling with the hem of her jacket, biting her lip as she snuck glances at him from her seat. She bent forwards, hiding behind her hair; it was a habit she'd gotten from when she was younger. Back then, while her hair had been shorter, her fringe had been heavier; it had almost always hung into her eyes, and probably didn't help her sight, but she'd never made any real effort to cut it. It was only ever when Kurenai had told her to that she'd do such a thing. Her hair was the perfect shield.

"How are you?"

She let out a little frightened squeak. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that the sound of Sasuke's voice had taken her completely by surprise. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling across his face as he stared down at her; she flushed scarlet.

"I, ah — I've been fine, thank you," she said, still fiddling with her jacket, still hiding behind her hair. "Y—you?"

He looked at her as if that was the most ridiculous question she could ask, but he answered anyway. "All things considered, I've been fine."

"That's — that's good."

"Indeed."

They fell into silence again.

Hinata wondered why she was so nervous. Her palms were sticky and she couldn't stop fiddling with her jacket; she could feel her heart thudding in her chest, pounding so loudly that she was certain he had to be able to hear it. It was all she could hear. She thought maybe these nerves were coming from Sasuke's earlier stare and the fact that something was so obviously bugging him — and a part of her kept nagging her, saying that it was something to do with _her. _

_She _was somehow involved.

But that didn't make any sense.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

Hinata managed to stop herself from squeaking this time, but she couldn't stop herself from jolting in her seat, jerking upright. Sasuke was gazing at her with a mixture of amusement and fascination across his face, peering at her as if she was an extremely interesting type of animal; instantly, her cheeks began to heat up.

She mumbled, "K—keep doing what?"

"Ducking."

She found herself confused.

He rolled his eyes, elaborating, "You keep dipping forwards, hiding your face, letting your hair fall in the way of—" He cut himself off, looking embarrassed; absently, she wondered what it was he'd been about to say. "In the way of your eyes. Why?"

"I, ah…"

Hinata blinked.

"It's a nervous habit," she said and, as she did, she found herself dipping forwards again, this time with her fingers pressing together, pushing her fingertips against each other and sort of battling with her fingers. "It's from my childhood. I, ah — I know it's stupid to complain about it, but I never had the greatest relationship with my father. He was always… he was always expecting too much from me, and I _tried_, I honestly did, but I—I never could meet his expectations. I was in a constant state of nervous anticipation, I g—guess, always hoping that today would be the day."

Absently, she thought of her father.

She thought of the way he'd acted when she was smaller; of his disapproving his gaze and his stern, cold face. He'd always seemed like such a distant figure; like a statue of a king, that she was only able to gaze upon from afar. Now, though — she thought of her father yesterday, and his hesitant, uncertain "I was worried"; it still brought a smile to her face.

"I still do it because — because it's _habit_, I suppose," Hinata murmured finally, shrugging her shoulders.

Sasuke tilted his head and peered at her.

For a while, he didn't say anything.

She squirmed beneath his gaze, trying to resist the urge to hide behind her fringe again; biting her lip, she managed to brave his stare. While she didn't exactly sit with her back straight and her head held high, she did manage to keep looking in his general direction, with her chin tipped slightly downwards and her shoulders slouched.

Eventually, he spoke again.

"You should stop," he said, and a tiny smile flickered across his lips. "I prefer seeing your eyes."

Almost as soon as he'd said it, he looked affronted, terrified of the words; if it had been anyone else, she would have said the expression was comical. It was _Sasuke_, however, and she couldn't understand why he looked so appalled at himself. The expression was fleeting, though, and was soon replaced with his usual mask of indifference. She tried to ignore the warm tingling in her fingertips, in her stomach, in her heart, attempting to coax more conversation from him.

When it became apparent he wasn't going to speak again, she let out a sigh, standing up. She nodded her head in his direction, heading over towards the door — she lingered there for a moment, just hovering in the doorway.

Then, with another sigh, she said, "Goodbye, Sasuke," and left.

As she walked down the corridor, she tried not to replay his words over and over again. She felt like a giddy school-girl with a crush, but it wasn't quite for the same reason as that; this wasn't the equivalent of having Naruto tell her he preferred seeing her eyes — that would have made her feel warm, sure, but in a different way. She would have felt elated then, ecstatic, over-the-moon, anticipating whatever else that lead to.

No, this was different.

"_I prefer seeing your eyes."_

It made her feel golden like summer.

Walking along, Hinata couldn't stop the silly smile from blooming across her face. She didn't even know why she was smiling. She figured it probably had something to do with the fact that the evening sunset was more beautiful than ever, but she didn't think too deeply about it.

.

.

.

* * *

**notes:**

Again, another hopeful little ending there — although, Sasuke's reaction to his little slip-up was probably less than pleasing. Sorry this took so long guys, but I promise, I will never give up on this fanfic! :)


	22. day 22

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **This is for all of you. I love each and every one of you.

**chapter: **22/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

I'm back, I promise~

Thank you so much to all of you. Seriously, you _need _to know that I haven't given up on this; while I'm a complete and utter bitch when it comes to updating, I still love _Fifty Days _with all my heart, and so I _am _going to finish it—but thank you very, very much for sticking with me, despite the fact that my updates are very sporadic. I promise that I'm going to work on it—I'm finally getting my Naruto-writing mojo back, and, let me say, updates for this and _Tag_, and a new couple of Hinata-centric fics—including GaaHina, SasuHina and SasuHinaIta—are on the way.

Also, just FYI—I'm not keeping up with the Naruto manga.

I _will _catch up!

So, enjoy~

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

In the end, they found Kakashi.

He was slumped beneath a tree, head dipped forwards—there was a long, jagged gash across his chest, deep and unforgiving; his clothes were soaked with blood and his skin was pale, but there was the slightest of smiles plastered across his face, beneath his mask. It was Sakura who found him, and she flew towards him, a strangled cry escaping her lips. At first, she couldn't bring herself to touch him, her hand inching out slowly to touch his skin—and then she jerked away, as if burnt, hand moving to her mouth, smothering that second cry before it could leave her lips.

She staggered backwards, cheeks wet, transfixed by the sight in front of her; part of her had always known that they would die in battle—all four of them, she had thought, Sasuke included—but seeing Kakashi in front of her, sitting in a pool of his own blood, pinned to the bark of the tree behind him by one of his own kunai…

It was _awful._

She was so transfixed by the scene in front of her, that she barely heard Naruto land beside her in a crouch; he straightened, eyes fixed on her, and asked her what was wrong—but it was as though she were hearing him from miles and miles away. It was as though she wasn't hearing him at all. Standing utterly still, she didn't reply; and it was only then that Naruto's face turned deathly pale, and he turned, gazing in the direction she was staring. He didn't move—didn't speak—didn't even flinch. He just stood where he was, hands fisted by his side, eyes dead; and when Sakura looked at him, she saw rage and sorrow and such _hurt_.

It was only then that she ran to Kakashi.

He felt so cold, so frail, so _small_—and she wrapped her arms around his body, rocked against him, cried for all she was worth; her cheeks were stained with tears, and she let out a guttural, animal cry, before sobbing against his hair, pressing his head against her chest. She sobbed, wrecked and wailing, and for a moment, she wondered how everything could have gone so wrong—she thought of how they'd been, Team 7, when they were so much younger. She thought of the photo that had never left her bedside table; of her, surrounded by _her _boys—by Naruto, Kakashi, _Sasuke_—and she thought of how everything had been so much simpler back then, at the beginning.

Or perhaps it hadn't.

Perhaps, back then, she had simply ignored all the complications.

That was more likely.

For a few moments, Sakura felt as though her heart had shattered.

It was too much to deal with—first Sasuke, and now this? She'd always known, of course—she'd always worried and fretted, and her nightmares had always been vivid and crimson; when she closed her eyes, these were the images that flickered in her mind, bright and vivid, but not _real. _Not then. When she'd dreamt back then of Naruto's broken, battered body, or of Sasuke crimson and bloody, or of Kakashi… like _this_, it had been just that. It had been a dream.

No, it had been a _nightmare._

But now, in front of her…

This was _real._

It wasn't fair.

It _wasn't._

She didn't realise she was repeating the words over and over again, like a mantra, until Naruto appeared by her side, seemingly out of nowhere, resting a hand upon her shoulder. His voice was gentle and strangely calm—it sounded quiet, soft, relaxed, but if she'd been in her right mind, she'd have noticed the strangled note to each word, as if he were choking on each and every word. Sakura didn't notice, though, because her cheeks were tear-stained and her eyes were screwed shut, and she couldn't think properly; her hands were balled into fists, clutching desperately at the front of Kakashi's flak jacket, and she couldn't bring herself to look at Naruto.

Instead, she let out a pained cry.

"This wasn't supposed to _happen_—none of this was. It's all—it's _wrong_. We weren't supposed to go this wrong. How did we—how did we go _this _wrong?"

"I know, Sakura."

"He's _dead!"_

"I know."

"This isn't _fair."_

"I know—I _know_," Naruto murmured, and then he moved forwards. He was swift, almost sweeping her into his arms; but all of a sudden, Kakashi was gone, and they were stood a distance away, Naruto's arms wrapped around her. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes—she could almost pretend she hadn't seen what she'd seen, that she hadn't seen the truth, but almost as soon as she did, she felt her heart grow cold.

He'd been so _still._

It was all so _final._

She let out a muffled sob, as she remembered the way he used to smile, his single, visible eye crinkling, mirth obvious in his gaze—and that was when she began to cry again. She felt pathetic and small again, just as she had done time and time again, as she'd watched Sasuke and Naruto walk further and further away from her; just as she had felt when she'd seen their backs grow smaller and smaller, unable to do anything but watch. She felt helpless again. It was something she hadn't felt in such a long time, and all of a sudden, she couldn't control her tears. She simply sobbed and sobbed, arms limp and useless by her side—that didn't matter, though, because Naruto was doing all the moving for her, holding her still and upright, running his hands across her hair and soothing her. He was trying to console her as best he could and she suddenly felt a wave of gratitude, her lips quirking into the smallest of smiles, spoilt only by her tear-stained cheeks and the pain in her eyes.

Eventually, Sakura managed to regain control of her crying, her breathing slowing, her tears eventually stopping.

After that, they simply stood there.

Together.

And, for a brief second, that was enough.

**.**

**.**

"You shouldn't be up," Hinata murmured, frowning slightly as she watched Neji dress—he'd managed to successfully pull on his trousers, refusing her help, but he was struggling with his traditional Hyuuga robes, wincing as he attempted to pull the material up and over his head. As he did so, she caught sight of his chest, marred with scars, the bandages wrapped around his stomach spotted red with blood. "Shizune says you're n—not ready."

"She's wrong."

"I don't think s—she is," she replied, and her expression softened somewhat. "You have to be careful, Neji—you'll pull your stitches otherwise."

He glanced at her then, almost dismissingly, before renewing his struggles. Hinata had been more than aware of the fact that her cousin was feeling pent-up and useless where he was; Tenten had been by to see her more than once, her expression worried and concerned, and Lee had already had to force Neji back into bed—something Neji was _still _angry about. He'd already attempted to get up, late one night, obviously hoping to sneak away while there was no one to kick up a fuss about it all—but Lee had been there, sat like a soldier by his bedside, and it had taken very little effort to push Neji back down onto the bed. Tenten, upon hearing about the entire thing, had snapped irritably at Neji, jabbing her finger at his chest, before disappearing without saying another word.

Now, though, it was Hinata's turn.

"Please, j—just stay here—only for another day, I promise," she tried, biting her lip.

"Have they found him, yet?"

Hinata fell silent, then.

She knew exactly who Neji was talking about—he didn't even have to look up at her. Instead, he was bent forwards, long hair hiding his face as he fiddled with the hem of his trousers; he'd given up on the shirt, if only for a second, but his entire posture was rigid and alert. Her silence was obviously the answer he'd been waiting for—if anything, it said _more _than enough. Hinata had no news; while she knew Sakura and Naruto had gone out searching for their former sensei, taking Sai with them, she had no idea as to whether or not they'd found him.

Her gaze fell to the floor.

"I—"

"I see," Neji replied, almost curtly, and then went back to dressing himself.

This time, he managed to lift his arms up above his head, shirt tugged up and over his arms, but he couldn't quite muffle his little yelp of pain. It looked almost as if he'd pulled the stitches on his stomach, and Hinata was up on her feet before Neji could say anything. With gentle hands and quick fingers, she pulled his white robes down over his head, smoothing out the creases—then she fastened the rest of his robes around his waist, tying the black apron so that it hung neatly over his legs. He stayed absolutely still as she did so, rigid and tense, and she tried to ignore the fact that he was obviously masking his pain.

When she was finished, he nodded his thanks.

"Tenten won't be h—happy, you know," Hinata said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're still in pain, Neji. You can't—you _shouldn't _be doing this."

Neji didn't reply.

"There's n—no need to push yourself."

"I know."

"Promise me you _won't, _okay?"

Neji nodded, brow furrowed slightly, his lips a thin, narrow line. It was obvious that he was displeased with the entire situation—he hadn't really been expecting Hinata to be there when he woke up, although she was certain he'd had an inkling of that fact. It had been pretty customary for him to wake up with someone by his side, whether it was Hinata or Tenten or Lee—that didn't matter. It was the same for Kiba, really, although more often than not it was Hana by his side when he woke up.

Hinata didn't move as Neji walked to the door, footsteps brisk and fast; she didn't move an inch, not even as he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. Instead, she stayed where she was, clutching her hands in front of her, frowning ever so slightly, her lips drawn into a troubled line; there was a lot she always wanted to say to her cousin, but she'd never been able to find all the right words—and she was quite certain she never _would _find them.

She thought he understood, though.

That was enough for now.

"I won't push myself," Neji said, finally. "I promise, Hinata."

He sounded almost resigned.

"Okay," she replied, and the ghost of a smile passed over her lips. "Tenten and Lee w—wouldn't let you, anyway."

"That much is true," Neji said; she could practically hear the small smile in his words, in his voice, and then, with that said, he left, disappearing out of the door silently and quickly, his movements as fluid as water. She stayed where she was stood for a moment, listening until she couldn't hear his footsteps—and then, when she could no longer hear him, she waited until she couldn't _feel _him, either. She waited until the feel of his chakra, electric but still not as strong as it had once been, was gone completely.

Then she sank into her seat.

She felt exhausted.

The past few days had been challenging, she thought, but not only for her—absently, her thoughts turned to Naruto, to Sakura, and then her expression became one of sorrow. She put her head in her hands, breathing slowly, in through her nose and out through her mouth, for a few seconds; then she pulled herself to her feet, stretching slightly as she did so. She figured she'd probably head to the market—she could sort something nice out for dinner, as a sort of 'welcome home' for Neji, and then head off and see Sasuke. It seemed like a relatively good plan, and so she crossed the room, heading out the door and bumping straight into Shikamaru, who had been in the process of walking into the room.

She let out a startled squeak.

He rubbed his head, looking ever so slightly annoyed.

"S—Shikamaru! I, uh—if you were looking for Neji, he's g—gone," Hinata said hurriedly, shifting around him so that she was stood in the corridor—that way, if she needed to, she could make her escape relatively smoothly. "You just missed him."

"Really?"

"S—sorry."

"How troublesome," Shikamaru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you know where I could find him, then? As annoying as it may be, this _is _relatively important."

"I, ah—he promised me he wouldn't p—push himself, but he's probably gone to the training grounds," Hinata replied, before shrugging her shoulders slightly, almost as if to ask what she could do. "I'm sorry you missed him. If y—you'd been here a little earlier, you would have caught him for sure."

"Shizune said he would still be here."

"He's still _supposed _to be here."

"That makes sense."

There was an awkward pause then.

With nothing left to say to Shikamaru, Hinata ducked her head, starting to back away—he caught hold of her arm and held her there, frowning. She paused, unsure of what it was Shikamaru wanted—and then he looked at her, looked straight into her eyes, capturing her gaze; and then they stood like that, opposite each other, completely still. After a while, Shikamaru let go, before sighing, shoving his hands into his pockets and heading off down the corridor, shoulders slumped and his head ducked.

Hinata waited a moment before following.

She hurried to catch up with him, surprised at how someone who seemed so slow could suddenly go so quickly, and when they were finally walking together, side by side, she asked, "What d—did you want Neji for?"

"It's classified," Shikamaru said, shrugging a shoulder. "And troublesome. You're still visiting Uchiha Sasuke."

It wasn't a question.

It was a statement.

"Y—yes."

"Huh. Has he given us anything yet?"

"W—what?"

"Information, data, details," Shikamaru waved a hand. "There's no way the Hokage's letting you visit Sasuke for nothing in return—as nice as she may be, the Elders wouldn't have allowed it. Has he given you anything yet?"

"No."

"Makes sense."

"How?"

"You didn't seem like that kind of person."

Hinata paused, then, slowing down to a halt—Shikamaru walked another few steps, before sighing, pivoting on his heel to face her. It felt almost like a stand-off, then, with the two of them stood a distance away from each other, opposite one another, silent. Hinata was still trying her hardest to figure Shikamaru out; he _seemed _like an easy enough guy to understand, sure, but he was brilliant at hiding the truth—and as he stretched, rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned, the truth was _there_, in his eyes.

Hinata saw it this time.

"You think I'm d—doing the right thing."

"It's troublesome, but yeah; I guess so," Shikamaru said, before shrugging again. "This time, at least."

"Good."

"It's going to hurt, though—when it all comes out. It'll hurt Naruto and Sakura."

"I k—know."

"Are you ready for that?"

"I g—guess so."

**.**

**.**

When Neji arrived at the training grounds, he hadn't particularly expected to see Tenten already there, arms crossed over her chest, scowling at him as he stepped onto the scene; sure, he'd been ready to see Lee, because Lee was pretty much _always _there—and, sure enough, his friend was stood next to Tenten, a comical expression of exaggerated disappointment plastered over his face. His hands were on his hips, but he was stood with one leg pushed forwards slightly in front of the other, as if he were ready to move at any moment. He'd probably stop Neji if he tried to exert himself and, frankly, Neji wasn't about to battle with his teammates over this one.

He held his hands up in surrender.

"Relax. I'm not going to do anything idiotic."

"You're _here_, aren't you?" Tenten snapped, and, as quickly as that, it was as if her resolve simply dissolved—she wiped her hand across her forehead, sweaty and sticky. She'd probably already been training with Lee for some time, and had heard him coming—he hadn't been particularly stealthy about it, after all, and his side was beginning to sting again. "Why are you here, anyway? You shouldn't be moving about."

"I felt useless."

"You're not needed—not right now."

"Shinobi are _always _needed," Neji replied, frowning. "You know that."

"But _you're_ not."

Neji couldn't help but feel as though this argument was simply going to spin around and around in circles, so he sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. Tenten had her arms crossed in front of her chest again, looking furious, and Lee simply looked lost—then, slowly, he took a few steps forwards, coming to stand next to Neji. There was this brief moment of understanding, and then Lee sat down, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knees. "Come, friends," he said, then, voice cheerful and painfully loud as he beckoned towards the two of them. "Let us sit."

There was a pause.

Then, finally, Tenten rolled her eyes, grumbling beneath her breath as she made her way over; she kneeled next to Lee, glowering up at Neji, still looking utterly furious. He decided that maybe he'd have been better heading home, first. He could have asked Hanabi how things had been without him, or something—anything was better than this.

He must have looked as though he was about to sprint away, because all of a sudden Lee hooked a hand around his leg, jerking him none-too-gently to the ground. He fell haphazardly, all sprawling limbs, a jumbled mess—pretty much unlike his usual poised self—and was pretty lucky that Lee seemed to catch hold of him, his palm pressed flat on Neji's chest as he twisted the other so that he landed on his back.

Neji stared up at the sky.

For a moment, all he could see was blue—peaceful, plain blue—marred only by a few clouds and the occasional bird.

Then his teammates leaned into his line of sight.

Tenten quirked an eyebrow, and said, "_That _was graceful."

"Are you _sure _you're alright?" Lee added. "You, uh—you aren't usually that clumsy."

"I'm _fine_," Neji said, and attempted to sit up; it was a little more painful than he'd expected, and he couldn't help but wince as he felt the stretch in his chest. He pressed a hand against his stomach, thinking of his bandages beneath the Hyuuga robes; and then he forced his expression to clear, aware of the concerned expressions his teammates were shooting him. "You should go back to training. Pretend I'm not here."

"Oh no," Lee shook his head. "We were about to take a break anyway."

"Yeah," Tenten agreed, frowning.

"It's not a problem."

Neji resisted the urge to roll his eyes—instead, he smiled almost reluctantly, before sighing, placing his palms flat on the grass behind him and leaning backwards slightly, gazing up at the sky. Absently, he thought of the last couple of weeks—of the way things had all changed when it had been announced that they'd caught Uchiha Sasuke—of Kakashi and the Akatsuki and how things had only gotten worse then. He glanced to the left at Lee, who was mimicking his movements, peering up at the sky, and then he looked at Tenten; she met his gaze steadily, the concern still obvious in her eyes, but said nothing. He thought back further, then—to the Chunin exams, and then to before that; to when they'd first met each other, so much younger, so naive, sat opposite each other and dreaming of a future to come.

His smile was a little sad, then.

It was strange how much things had changed.

How much _they _changed.

But, sat next to his teammates and watching as the clouds shifted across the sky, he supposed that was okay.

**.**

**.**

Once Hinata had gathered the groceries from the market, and dropped them back off at home, she made her way over to the prison to visit Sasuke. She'd paused at the gate to talk briefly to Ibiki—it was nothing major; he'd just wanted to ask her a little about how she was doing, and about Neji, and about Kakashi—and then she'd headed on her way. Now, though, she was stood in front of Sasuke, hands clasped in front of her, gazing at him; his eyes were closed and his face seemed almost peaceful, his brow furrowed only slightly. She'd caught him while he was sleeping, and his face had been so content—she hadn't wanted to disturb him, and so she stood where she was, entranced and silent.

It was nice like that.

She took the opportunity to study him—to study his features; the slope from the bridge of his nose down to the peak—the way his lips pouted slightly as he slept. She watched as his eyelids flickered, eyelashes dusting the tips of his cheeks, gentle and elegant. She would never tell him, but she thought he was utterly beautiful—beautiful in a way that Neji, her cousin, wasn't, and beautiful in a way that Naruto could never be—but he was beautiful in a sad, broken way, like a glass doll lying shattered upon the floor.

When he slept, though, he was _whole._

He was beautiful.

Hinata settled into her chair, tucking her legs beneath her, crossing them so that she was perched on the chair as if she were a little girl again—when her father wasn't around, and she was in her room on her own, she used to cross her legs and sit up on the chair, despite the fact that she knew it was impolite. It was comfortable, though, and she liked reading like that; it helped her lose herself in the words. Then, when she was settled comfortably in her chair, she slipped her hand into her kunai pouch—it had been emptied since the weapons weren't necessary, and even if she _had _been armed, she would have been required to leave them with Ibiki at the entrance.

Instead of a kunai, she pulled out a tiny, pocket-sized book.

She'd found it a long time ago in her father's study—it had been hidden away on one of the higher shelves, out of reach and gathering dust, and the only reason she'd found it all was because she'd been stood on the chair, searching for some papers her father had asked for. She'd found the papers, but as she'd picked them up, she'd caught sight of the curious little thing; it fit neatly into her palm when she picked it up, and she'd paused where she stood, blowing dust away from the cover.

It was delicate and fragile, and there was no title—just black, leather binding—and when Hinata opened it, each page had been filled with tiny, cursive writing; much like Neji's, she'd thought at the time, and, looking at it now, the similarities were obvious. It was all in the handwriting, really—the slanted, sloped writing, with the neat little 'o's and the long, curling 'y's, and it was only recently that she'd realised the writing belonged to Hyuuga Hizashi. It was a journal of sorts—she didn't know what years of his life it documented, but there were pages and pages about Neji, the pride of his father obvious in the writing.

She'd never shown him.

She still didn't know why.

There was more to the journal than that, of course; her uncle had been a passionate, heartfelt man in the way only a Hyuuga could be—in his _words. _He'd probably rarely spoken so plainly to her father and, when he had, there would have undoubtedly been severe consequences; instead, he'd written all his different thoughts and feelings about the branch clan and the main family, and, well—he was _right._

About _all _of it.

Hinata had often thought that if only she showed her father his journal, then surely he would see that Hizashi had been right too.

And, as often as she thought that, she quickly remembered just _where _she'd found the journal. It had been in her father's study—there was no way that he didn't know about it. In fact, she was willing to bet that he _did _know about it, but had simply tucked it away where he wouldn't have to think about it—she wondered if he'd ever even realised that the book was missing. She highly doubted it; she'd never seen him searching for the thing, or asking whether he'd misplaced it, and she'd never told him that she'd taken it.

One day, when the time was right, she would show Hanabi.

Until then, she felt more than satisfied flicking quickly through the pages; she'd read the entire thing more times than she could remember, and she had her favourite little chunks and sections. It felt private reading it, and, yet, she thought that maybe her uncle wouldn't have minded it; and she smiled slightly, fondly, as she flicked through to a section near the middle. She'd been relatively young in it, and so had Neji—the pair of them had clutched at their fathers' robes, gazing at one another, and Hizashi had said she'd looked so startled and scared—and so much like her mother. Hinata had paused at that, the first time she'd read it, and as she'd continued reading, tears had welled up in her eyes.

She'd not known her mother very well—that was because she'd been constantly falling in and out of sickness, deathly pale, with heavy, hooded eyes and a sad smile. Her complexion had been sallow and sickly; she'd barely been a memory of the beautiful woman she once was—the woman everyone said Hinata looked like. Hinata could remember lying on the white bed one day, tracing patterns across the palm of her mother's pale, frail hand, before being escorted away by her father—Hiashi had said her mother needed to sleep. He'd often said that. She'd started getting better, and Hiashi had smiled often then—he'd sometimes even _laugh_—and then she fell pregnant with Hanabi, and—

And she died during birth.

Many things had broken her father's heart.

That was one of them.

Still, reading the passage in which Hizashi so fondly recalled memories of her mother—of her mother as she once had been, energetic and youthful and smiling and laughing, instead of the bedridden woman she became—had brought a tear to Hinata's eye.

Now, it only made her smile.

She read the section once, quickly, briefly; she knew it so well that she was able to sculpt the words with her lips as she read, her smile widening as she did so. She read on a little further after that—it was about Neji and a bird he'd found in the garden, lying curled in a rose bush with its wings folded over its chest, cold and fragile. It had been dead, but Neji had understood; he'd been so young, but he'd asked his father to help build a tiny little grave for the creature, and they'd buried it beneath the stars, sombre and unsmiling. Her eyes flickered quickly over the words, and then she leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment.

When she looked up again, Sasuke was awake.

She let out a little startled squeak of surprise, hands fumbling on the pages of her book, shutting it awkwardly—hurriedly, she put it on the table, pushing it so that it was out of sight. Then, frowning slightly, she peered at Sasuke. "How long have you been awake for?"

"Long enough."

"You s—should have said something!"

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself," Sasuke replied, tilting his head—his gaze flickered back across to the book, briefly, as he asked, "What are you reading?"

"It's n—nothing."

"Is it yours?"

"What?"

"The book—it looks like a journal or diary," he said, smirking slightly as he did so. "Is it yours?"

"I, ah—no… No, it isn't," Hinata said, smiling sheepishly—she rubbed the back of her neck as she did so, unconsciously mirroring the gesture she often associated with Naruto, before linking her hands together and placing them on her lap. "It was my uncle's—I found it in my f—father's study, and, I don't know… I just _kept _it, I suppose. I didn't really know him very well; my f—father never really speaks of him, except to say that he was once a great man, but—but this makes me feel like I _knew _him."

"What was he like?"

"He was a g—great man."

"Oh?"

"He… he _understood_," Hinata explained, then, frowning down at her hands as she attempted to think of the right words; she felt the overwhelming need to explain herself to Sasuke, to get him to understand that yes, her uncle _had _been a great man. She didn't know _why_—she just felt that he _had _to know. "He understood that we n—need to stand together, and he always knew; he knew from the very beginning. He wanted to be out and away from oppression; he wanted to be free to control his o—own life and his _own _destiny, but, in the end, he _knew. _He _understood. _He was—he w—would have been the best uncle I could have hoped for."

Sasuke gazed at her then, for a long, steady moment.

She felt silent.

It was weird, the way he looked at her—gaze searching, eyes focused, simply _looking_—as if he could see inside her. Hinata thought that even without his Sharingan, Sasuke's eyes would have been bewitching, mesmerising; even without his bloodline limit, they saw more than they ever should—than any eyes ever could.

He saw people.

He _truly _saw them.

He saw them as they were and as they could be, and he stayed silent through it all, simply looking.

Then, finally, he spoke:

"I understand."

**.**

**.**

"You—you _do?"_

Sasuke quirked an eyebrow, gazing at Hinata; she didn't speak as though she were asking a question, but her tone was just as enquiring as it was relieved. He didn't offer her any spoken response, though; instead, he simply jerked his head in a nod, before peering at the little book on the table. Upon waking up, it had been one of the first things he'd noticed; he'd watched as Hinata had read, obviously content, and that had made him feel ever so slightly more relaxed—and he'd thought that she'd looked beautiful.

Peaceful and oh so beautiful.

"You do," she repeated, nodding slowly.

"I do," he agreed, and his lips tugged into a slight smirk.

She looked as if she were going to say it again—she opened her mouth, sculpting the words—but then she cut herself off, blushing furiously and suddenly looking very sheepish. He tilted his head again, and his smirk turned into a fully-fledged grin; all of a sudden, there was something immensely satisfying about being the cause of that blush.

She couldn't meet his eye, but she was smiling nonetheless.

"I was reading about my mother."

"Hn?"

"She, ah—she died when I was younger," Hinata said.

Sasuke didn't tell her he was sorry—he'd grown fed up with hearing everyone else say that they were sorry, whenever they'd found out about what happened to his parents, and so he didn't feel the need to say it to her. Still, he ducked his head, acknowledging her loss; that was more than enough, he felt, and her expression was grateful as she mirrored his movement.

"I barely remember her. It doesn't really hurt, not anymore—not as it should h—have," she continued, before frowning, looking troubled. "I probably s—sound so _insensitive, _considering… considering everything that has happened to you, but—but she was my mother, and I always felt that I should have _known _her. And, well—my uncle writes about her a lot. He writes about my father, too, and about when they were younger; it's interesting."

Her expression softened then.

"It's _sad."_

"How so?"

"It's just—the way Hizashi talks about it all… They never even knew."

He snorted, then.

If there was anything Sasuke understood, it was _that._

There was silence.

Then, he spoke—

"Every memorabilia, every memory, every bit of _them_ burned in the fires that destroyed my home; there was very little left of it—of my parents and my clan, and my childhood. I was reclusive and angry at everything, and then, when we were sorted into our different teams, one afternoon Kakashi appeared at my window; he didn't knock or anything, and just let himself in, and then he told me he was fed up of all the moping, and he said he had something to show me. I didn't agree to go with him to begin with, but then he said that if I didn't go, I'd be spending more time than I'd have liked with Naruto, so I reluctantly agreed.

He took me to this room in the Hokage's building, filled entirely with shelves—and, on those shelves, were stacks upon stacks of scrolls.

He showed me three.

They were—each was written in my father's handwriting, and they were from many, many years ago, documenting a B-ranked mission he'd been on, back when he was a Chunin; he'd been advanced for his age, and he'd taken a team of able shinobi with him—my mother included—in retrieving a stolen scroll. He was injured during the mission and unable to command the rest of his squad, but my mother took over; and, according to Kakashi, that was when they fell in love. He said he'd heard all the kunoichi gossiping about it, but it was unlikely—my father would never have mixed a relationship with his work. That's why my mother never made ANBU, despite the fact that she could have—she gave it all up for him.

But—but, back then, I sat and I read the three scrolls over and over and over again. They weren't particularly interesting—it hadn't been a fancy, exciting mission, but…"

He trailed off.

Hinata smiled.

"I _understand."_

It was weird, really, how two words could suddenly make everything feel so much better—Sasuke didn't really understand what he'd been trying to achieve by telling that story, but the moment Hinata had spoken, he'd suddenly felt as though he'd definitely achieved it. He very nearly smiled, suddenly relieved.

Hinata stayed for only a while longer.

Then, offering one final smile, she left.

**.**

**.**

It was as Hinata was walking back from the prison—as she passed Ibiki—that she realised something was wrong; she'd felt it, she thought, in the air, but it was only when she met his gaze that she truly realised. She smiled, lifting her hand in a wave, and his expression was grim, his returning nod stiff and tense; he was holding a scroll in his hand, clutching it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and Hinata slowed to a halt.

In that moment, she _knew._

But Sasuke didn't.

"Kakashi is dead," Ibiki said, and Hinata didn't bat an eyelid—instead, she turned and sprinted back the way she had come, disappearing in a flash.

**.**

**.**

The door swung open, slamming against the door and hitting the wall forcefully; it was enough to startle one of the two ANBU guarding his cage and that, in turn, was enough to make Sasuke look up, startled. His expression quickly slipped into one of confusion though, as he found himself gazing at Hinata—but her face was pale, her features twisted with sorrow, and when she spoke, it sounded as if she were choking on her words. She still managed to look beautiful, though—heart-wrenchingly, heart-achingly beautiful—and he found himself immediately transfixed; there was this energy, now, fast and frantic and oh so sad; it was such a vivid, brilliant contrast to how she'd been earlier, relaxed and smiling as she clutched that little leather-bound book in her hands.

And now…

Now, she was _different._

But still beautiful, his mind helpfully supplied, and he supposed that yes, she _was _still beautiful.

And then she spoke—

"Oh, Sasuke, I'm _sorry_—I'm so, so sorry. They—they _found _him."

He barely heard her after that.

He closed his eyes.

He could picture it in his head, bright and vivid, a violent, bloody picture; he could see Kakashi slumped against a tree, head tilted downwards, silver hair stained pink and red—and he could see the messy, cruel gash Samehada would have left, cutting through muscle and tendons and bone. He could see the broken, battered body in his mind, and it just didn't seem real. He tried to think of Naruto and Sakura, of how they must be feeling, and he suddenly felt a burning urge, a desire, to see his old teammates again; not to speak to them, but to simply _see _them. To look into Naruto's eyes and show him that they weren't alone—that he could still feel it, too. He could still feel the bond they'd had, the ties to their past lives, tearing apart, one by one, ripping away and baring their souls to the world.

And then he opened his eyes, and Hinata was in front of him.

No glass to separate them.

Nothing.

She was _there._

She pressed her hand against his face, brushing his cheek softly, and murmuring words he couldn't quite hear; he thought her fingers were wet, but it could have just as easily been his cheeks, and he wondered, absently, if he was crying. He thought that maybe he was; and then he closed his eyes, screwing them up tightly, and bent his head—his head only just grazed the top of Hinata's head, his chin tickled by her hair, but she stood up on her tip-toes, her hand coming up to rest upon Sasuke's head. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Sasuke barely noticed—all he felt was Hinata's hand, fingers running through his hair as she tried to soothe him, and this weird, empty sort of pain, like a black hole inside him, _devouring _everything it came in contact with.

Kakashi was _dead._

"I'm sorry," Hinata whispered again.

Things weren't supposed to go like this, he thought, and suddenly felt very, very alone.

**.**

**.**

**.**

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**notes**2**:**

Hope you liked it!


	23. day 23

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **To my reviewers who keep on coming back~

**chapter: **23/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

I ran into GCSEs, guys, and it really _hurt_—I think I've failed the majority of my exams, but ho-hum, I'm pretty much finished now, so fingers crossed I'll be able to write more. Anyway, I'm taking a few liberties with Kakashi's death and funeral here, so bare with me slightly.

Here's an update, late as usual—I mean, honestly, why break tradition?

I love you all.

Also, I am chilling in Portugal right now, and am currently midway through chapters 24 and 25, so hopefully those'll come out a bit quicker!

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**.**

**.**

**.**

Konoha was mourning.

The entire village was quiet, silent—the air was thick, heavy; there was very little breeze and the streets were empty, barren. A girl sat in the dirt at the edge of the road, dressed in black, head bowed, painting little pictures in the mud with her fingers; she looked up when Hinata passed, met her gaze—and Hinata smiled, lips tight, expression forced, and waved a hand slowly, at which the girl simply pursed her lips and returned to drawing in the dust and dirt. She let her hand fall to her side again, awkward and uncomfortable; as she walked along, she smoothed the creases out of her black kimono, fiddling idly with a bit of stitching—it was something she hadn't worn in many long months, and it felt odd, unfamiliar, on her.

She clasped her hands in front of her, glancing up at the sky—it was bright, a clear, even blue, unmarred by any clouds.

It was _beautiful._

And, yet, it was awful, too.

She let out a soft sigh, turning on her heels, and made her way back down the street; she hadn't really planned on going out at all, that day, but it had felt stifling at her home—when she had walked into the kitchen, Neji had been at the table, head pressed into his hands, still and unmoving. She'd placed her hand gently on his back, unsure of what to say, and he hadn't reacted at all—but she'd seen his hands, and his knuckles had been bruised, cracked and broken. He'd let her clean them quickly, briskly, patting them dry and then wrapping them in bandages, but he hadn't said a word; he'd just looked at her, over her head, and, when she was finished, she hadn't been sure of what to do next.

In the end, she had left—and, when she'd looked back over her shoulder, his hands had been trembling.

No, she couldn't go back—she didn't have the right words to say, and what could she even _do_—but she didn't exactly know what she could do now, so she turned and began to walk again, passing the girl in the dirt once more. She glanced across at her, tilted her head, and then crossed to sit next to her, looping her hands on her knees and gazing at the house across the street; an old man peered back at her, lips tugging once into a small smile, before moving away from the window.

"Hey," Hinata said softly, voice barely a whisper.

The girl glanced up at her, briefly, and then continued drawing in the dirt.

"Hello."

"My name's Hinata," she murmured, picking a twig up off the ground—she twirled it between her fingers absently, and then drew a line in the dust, ran her fingers across it, smudged the line away, and then redrew it.

The little girl didn't reply—just made a soft, non-committal humming noise in the back of her throat—and instead took Hinata's twig off her; she snapped it, and then held the two halves out. One was shorter, jagged and long, and the other was longer, but she'd rounded the end off so that it was flatter; it created a wider line than the other stick, and she demonstrated, drawing two lines—one thin and one fat—across the dirt. "There," she said, softly, a small amount of pride in her voice, "I made it better. You were doing it wrong."

"Oh," Hinata said, "Thank you, then."

For a few seconds, there was silence.

Hinata traced a rose in the dust.

Absently, she thought it looked a lot like the roses she'd seen growing at the Uchiha compound—and then she exhaled softly, and blew it away.

The little girl looked at her, her expression blank, but it was almost as though she'd seen something else, because she turned away, returned to drawing in the dust. She said, in a voice so soft that Hinata almost didn't hear her, "You shouldn't be sad."

She raised her eyebrows, smiled slightly. "I'm not sad."

"You are," the girl said, shrugged, "Even when you're smiling—my Ma says that some people can look like they're happy, even when they're feeling really bad inside. She also said I have to be _really _quiet when I'm outside, because everyone's going to be smiling today, even when they don't want to, and she said that it's because a shinobi died—a _really _good one. She said he was _really _strong and everyone liked him, even though she said he was always reading _really _naughty books, when he shouldn't be." She paused, studied Hinata briefly, and then said, "Did you know him?"

"I, ah—not very w—well."

"But you're still sad, though?"

"I suppose I am," Hinata nodded.

"Very?"

"Very," she said, softly, and drew a line in the dirt.

She stayed like that, then, for a while—just drawing, stick tracing little patterns through the dirt; a swirl here, a line there, what looked like a face in the midst of all the tiny pebbles. Beside her, the little girl stayed for only a while—and then she was called by her mother, and so she stood up and ran away, little feet leaving footprints in the dirt, trekking mud through her swirls and patterns, ruining them. Hinata gazed at it for a while longer, and then she heaved a sigh, stood up—she needed to speak to Naruto.

**.**

**.**

He wasn't at his home when she tried to find him, and he wasn't at Sakura's, either—Ino opened the door, eyes red and smudged, cheeks still stained with tears, and smiled a wobbly smile; and then Hinata thought that maybe she didn't deserve to find Naruto, not right now. Maybe she didn't deserve to be with him—maybe he would only want Sakura; but he wasn't there, not with Sakura, not when she peered past Ino and into the dimly lit house; there was only Sakura curled up on her sofa, arms wrapped around her legs, looking absolutely furious—at herself, at Kakashi, at _everyone. _Apparently, he hadn't even been to visit her. As a result, she bid Ino farewell and offered her condolences—and while they felt flimsy and uncertain at best, she saw Sakura raise her head and offer a tight, sharp nod in response, accepting them.

She tried the training grounds, then, wondering if maybe he was attempting to punch and kick and sweat away all the sadness, the awful feelings—that emptiness that she was sure Naruto felt—but, when she appeared in the clearing, he wasn't there. It was weird, though, stood in the training grounds how _small _it all felt—tiny and trapping, like the trees were closing in on her, and then she had to _run_—as fast as she could.

After that, for a while, Hinata was stumped.

Then she began to walk.

At first, it was aimless walking—she was still trying to figure out exactly where her feet were taking her—but then she began to remember, saw in her mind a hill of green and white, and then she knew exactly where she was going. She didn't speed up, though; she still wasn't exactly sure what she'd say—what she even _could _say—to Naruto, and so she walked steadily in the direction of the Nara residence, fingers tapping a nervous drumbeat on her shoulders as she walked with her arms crossed. It was strange how cold, how unfriendly, Konoha felt that morning, the frozen sun casting long, jagged shadows across the ground—there was no breeze, she knew that, but she imagined there was a wind, ghosts of memories and whispers of a shinobi passing through the empty streets. She passed only Sai as she walked, and they were barely acquaintances—she couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken—but he paused opposite her, and she saw that he wasn't smiling; strange, but the lack of his signature fake smile, lips pulled taut, made her feel oddly empty.

He was carrying a bundle of scrolls beneath his arm, pinned to his side.

She tipped her head in a nod and said, "You're going to see Sakura."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he replied, easily, and his voice sounded brittle, uncertain, as he continued, "I read in a book that people need their companions—their friends—in these times."

"They d—do," Hinata murmured, softly, and smiled slightly.

Still, Sai looked troubled. "I wasn't sure she would need me."

"She needs her team—now more than e—ever."

"But I—"

"You're _n—not _Sasuke."

His face became closed then, and Hinata marvelled at just how expressive he could be for someone who didn't particularly understand emotions.

"No, I am not."

"And that's okay," she said, and began to walk again, passing him, "Because it's n—not _Sasuke _she needs right now."

For a while, she didn't think he would move—didn't think he would visit Sakura after all—and then she heard the soft pat-pat of his footsteps through the dirt, and when she turned and looked over her shoulder, he was walking again, scrolls clutched against his chest. It was almost as if he sensed her gaze, because he lifted his hand in a slight wave—a lazy wave, she thought, reminiscent of Shikamaru; and she chuckled at that, if only slightly, amused at the little things Sai had picked up by talking with them—and then she turned and continued walking. After that, the smile slipped from her face as she thought of the enormity of what she was about to do; she wasn't even sure if Naruto would even _slightly _want to talk to anyone right now, especially if he hadn't been to see Sakura. She passed Shikamaru's house and saw him sat at the front of his house, fingers steepled together to create a triangle, eyes closed—and he cracked open an eye as she passed, ducked his head in a nod towards the general direction of the dandelion hill she'd visited with Naruto before, and she offered him a tight, sharp smile in return.

She began to speed up, then, worried that he'd leave before she got there—or that he'd sense her presence, know she was coming, cut and run before she could speak to them; and hey, she might not even _speak _to him. He might just want company, she thought, might just want someone to sit with so that, for once, he wouldn't feel so alone—because Kakashi had always been there for him; had stopped him from feeling so alone back when they were children; had supported and cared for him, and now…

Now he was gone.

Her throat felt tight.

She hesitated for a moment at the foot of the hill.

For a few seconds, she was overcome by an overwhelming fear.

Then, slowly, she began to walk up the hill.

It was a steady trek—she definitely didn't remember the slope being this steep or the hill seeming this large, but it was as though every step she took simply furthered the distance between her and Naruto—and oh, wasn't _that _just as it always was? There had been no breeze down in Konoha, none at all, but here she could hear the dandelions whispering together, as if plotting against her—and then she was reminded of the ghosts of memories, and she hesitated again, briefly, unsure of whether she was doing the right thing. She needn't have, though, because suddenly she was at the top of the hill and suddenly Naruto was in front of her, and then it wouldn't matter—she had to speak now, before it was too late.

He was sat with his legs sticking out in front of him, leaning back on the palms of his hands, arms pushed back behind him—his head was tilted back, blonde hair ruffled in the slight breeze, and, when she stood over him, he cracked an eye open.

His lips tugged into a small smile, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he pressed a finger against his lips and then patted the grass beside him.

Hinata hovered, again, if only for a few moments, and then she sat, crossing her legs beneath her, by his side. He shifted next to her until their shoulders were touching, but, other than that, he didn't move at all—just shut his eyes again and stayed silent. This was what he needed, she knew, and, yet, she couldn't stop herself from thinking that maybe she should say something; offer her condolences or tell him it would all be okay. He cut her off before she could, though, saying ever so softly, "Just—can we just do this for a little while? Please, Hinata?"

When she looked at him, he was still smiling, but his eyes were sad.

She thought of the little girl from earlier:

_My Ma says that some people can look like they're happy, even when they're feeling really bad inside._

Slowly, she offered him a tentative smile in return and nodded.

He actually looked relieved at that, lifting a hand to his head and running his fingers through his hair—she shifted into a more comfortable position, bunching her skirt around her, feeling the dandelions prick at her legs. They both sat there, then, silent as the breeze began to pick up—and this time, when the dandelions took flight it seemed mournful, sorrowful, and, yet, when she looked across, glancing at Naruto from beneath her eyelashes, she saw that he was smiling slightly.

**.**

**.**

Sai hesitated at Sakura's door, uncertain—out of the rest of the team, Sakura had been most willing to accept him, but only after he'd finally allowed himself to accept them; but despite that, none of them had ever _truly _accepted him. He'd seen, even when they thought he hadn't, when they looked past him, when they saw the ghost of what once was—of who _should _have been there—upon his face. It wasn't something that bothered him, not completely, but it made him feel uneasy and filled him with this strange urge to just—_try. _When they looked at him like that—lost, like they were searching for someone else in his features—it made him want to try and _be _someone else. And now, stood at Sakura's door, he was painfully aware of the fact that he _wasn't _that someone else, the person they wanted him to be.

Absently, he thought of Hyuuga Hinata's words:

_It's n—not Sasuke she needs right now._

A part of him hoped that was true, but if it wasn't the Uchiha she wanted, then he was certain it would be Naruto.

He stepped backwards, bunched his scrolls beneath his arm, and turned to leave.

Behind him, the door swung open and Yamanaka Ino drawled, "Did you want to come inside or were you just going to lurk?"

He froze, turning slowly, and quickly plastered a smile across his face.

"I—"

"Right—you were just lurking," Ino replied, and then stepped aside, drawing the door open a little wider. "Well, tough luck; I was just getting ready to head home, and Sakura definitely could use the company right now—_your _company, in fact. Get your pretty self inside, _pronto._"

He didn't bother protesting, then, side-stepping quickly past Ino and stepping into Sakura's hallway; Ino rolled her eyes again, slipping her shoes on and switching places with him, standing on the doorstep. He lingered awkwardly next to the door, unsure of what to say, and Ino stared back at him—it was weird, but her eyes were searching, and he wondered if she too was seeing Sasuke on his face, on his lips, in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything—to ask about Sakura, how she was doing—but he hesitated, right at the last second, and a troubled expression passed fleetingly across his face, before settling back into his previous false smile.

She frowned at that, said, "Don't do that."

"Don't do what," he asked, absently.

"That," she said, and gestured towards his expression, "Don't show us a glimpse of who you actually are—and then just close yourself off."

He blinked slowly.

Then, gradually, he let the false smile bleed off his face.

Afterwards, he felt oddly… _naked._

Ino beamed at that, reaching up and patting his cheek. "There—_much _prettier."

"I can't say the same for you," he replied, with a slight shrug—and the smile that tugged at his lips felt better then, like it actually fit his face.

It was an odd feeling, he decided, but one that he could get used to.

Opposite him, Ino's smile looked a little more forced. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she turned on her feet and began to walk away, called over her shoulder, "You'd better look after her, Sai—or else I will break your pretty face, understood?"

For some reason, he didn't exactly think she was lying.

**.**

**.**

"I just can't really believe he's gone."

It was the first thing Naruto had said in what felt like hours.

Hinata didn't really hear him at first—she'd been thinking of other things; of Sasuke; of Neji and her family; of how she'd feel if it were Kiba or Shino she were mourning; of what she'd say to Kurenai—what _could _she even say—and of Naruto and how he must be feeling. When she finally realised he'd spoken, in a soft distracted voice, her eyes widened and she blinked at it, unsure of how to answer. He'd tucked his feet beneath him, legs crossed, and he was still gazing up at the sky, but there was a blankness to his eyes, as if he weren't really there sat next to her—as if he were far, far away—and his hands were pressed by his sides, palms flat on the grass, fingers splayed.

Uncertain, unsure, she wound her fingers between his.

In the end, she didn't say anything at all.

**.**

**.**

Sai hovered awkwardly at the kitchen door, eyes on Sakura; she seemed much smaller, huddled at the kitchen table, arms folded in front of her, gazing glassily at the wall—his scrolls felt heavy in his hands, useless and pointless. He found it uncomfortable how different she suddenly seemed, nothing like the strong kunoichi he'd fight alongside; she'd always seemed so big then, when they were fighting together, vibrant and brilliant. If he were to paint her then, he'd have painted her in bold, brash colours against a blurred background, because, when she fought, her face would light up and that would be all he'd see—her colours, bright and brilliant.

Now, he thought, if he were to paint her, he'd paint her in blues.

There would be a ghostly hue across her face—he'd paint her in sorrow and moonlight.

He cleared his throat as he stepped fully into the room, and her head swung to face him, but he was pretty sure she wasn't seeing him, not properly; but, for once, he was also sure she wasn't seeing Sasuke, either. He didn't think she was seeing anyone at all—nothing but memories. He crossed into the room fully and sat down in front of her; her gaze followed his movements, even as he spread his scrolls across the table, but she still didn't say anything, didn't comment. Instead, she just watched.

There were five scrolls in total, hand-painted and intricate, and he'd spent the last night, all morning, finishing them. Three of them were landscapes; the first a long, swooping landscape of Konoha at night, dimly-lit, almost mysterious in the moonlight; on the second, he'd painted the forest as he remembered it, when they'd passed through it and spent the night beneath the stars; and, on the third, he'd painted a single stone grave in the snow, the Konoha emblem scratched onto the surface. On the fourth scroll, there was a painting of Kakashi as Sai had seen him—worn, but strong; tired, but yet so _awake, _with an amused glint in his eye, a tilt to his lips. He'd very nearly decided not to bring the fifth—because the fifth was an old painting, one of _his_—and then he'd decided she could have it; it was the only scroll he didn't unravel.

He watched as she traced her fingertips across the first three paintings, gazing at them.

Her touch was feather-soft, he saw.

Then, on the fourth scroll, she began to cry.

He didn't notice at first—was too busy watching the path of her fingertips—but then he saw the first splash of tears hit the painting, just below Kakashi's visible eye, and he tore his stare away. He looked at her, then—took in the furious glint to her eyes, her trembling hands, her wet cheeks—and wondered if he'd done something wrong; quickly, he began to gather the scrolls back up, said, "I apologise—"

"No," she said, and her voice was soft.

Her hand was soft, but firm at his wrist.

"I like them."

"Right," Sai said, quietly, and let go of the scrolls.

She didn't let go of his wrist, though—her grip just got tighter and tighter.

He thought maybe he should say something—Sakura did, after all, have incredible strength—but then she let out a wretched sob.

His eyes widened and he gazed at her, uncertain still.

Then, as best he could with his hand still pinned in her grasp, he moved around the table so that he was stood next to her; he placed his free hand on her back, pulling her gently to her feet, and then pulled her into a hug. It was awkward—he'd never really, properly hugged anyone before and, while that would have seemed like an odd thing to anyone else, it was something Sai had accepted. Hugs—and physical contact like that—had never seemed important, back then, but he'd read about them in his books, and, well, he was certain hugs weren't supposed to be this _wet. _They were supposed to comfort people, he knew that much—but maybe he was doing it wrong. He shifted slightly, aware of the fact that Sakura was still gripping his wrist like it was a lifeline, and then, as he did so, her face met his chest and she just began to bawl. It was awkward and strange—and his hand pretty much flew off her back like he'd been shocked, and he peered down at her, wondering if there was something he was supposed to say.

"No—don't speak," she said, voice snotty and sniffy and _crying_, "Not right now. _Please._"

He felt a little bit startled, but he nodded nonetheless.

Gingerly, he let his hand fall back onto her back.

They stayed like that, then, for a while, with Sai stiff-backed and rigid against her; and then, eventually, he relaxed, his hand tracing soothing circles across her back—she was softer than he'd thought she'd be, softer than she appeared in his drawings; there was a certain strength to her, though, despite her curves, like he was holding something very strong and very breakable all at once, and that confused him. She confused him, he realised, absently—and then she pushed very gently at his chest, which was apparently still strong enough to send him staggering a few steps backwards, and eyed him with a teary smile, said, "You're better at hugging than I thought you'd be, y'know."

It was a start at a conversation, he knew that, something to distract her from her real feelings.

He was her distraction, he realised, and fixed his features into his signature smile.

And then his expression softened into something genuine, when he realised he didn't mind that fact at all.

**.**

**.**

"You're good at this, Hinata," Naruto said, after a while, with a stretch.

He didn't look happier, but he seemed almost _lighter_, she thought.

She tried for a smile, and it came out tentative and tired, as she asked, "What do you m—mean?"

"At," Naruto began, and then paused, tipping his head as he thought, "At knowing when people need you—and then knowing _what _people need, and helping them, and standing steady and strong when they're falling. It's like, I think I'm falling right now—and if you weren't here, I don't know what I'd have done; probably something reckless and stupid, I guess, if you asked anyone else, but it would have felt like I was at least doing _something. _But when you're here, I don't want to—I think I'm still falling, but it's like you're there to keep me steady, or to fall with me, or to—I don't know. I guess, you might not be the strongest kunoichi I know, but you're the strongest friend I have."

She looked at Naruto, then, and saw that he wasn't looking at her—that his eyes were tipped to the sky as he spoke.

His face looked almost peaceful, just a ghost of sorrow in his eyes.

If he was falling, she thought he must be a falling star.

**.**

**.**

If anyone were to ask Hinata if she thought Sasuke were a star, she would tell them yes; she would say he was a shooting star—brilliant, flaming crimson staining the night sky, burning everything and everyone in his path, white-hot and oh so beautiful—burning anger and vengeance across the sky. In certain moments, she was sure she could see the flames in his eyes—swore that his gaze scorched her, terrible and yet wonderful all at once—but now was not one of those moments at all. He wasn't looking at her, now; his gaze was fixed on the wall just over her shoulder, vague and absent, as if he were elsewhere, thinking of other things; and there were tight lines at the edges of his mouth, shadows beneath his eyes. His skin seemed paler, she thought, and she wondered if he'd slept last night.

If someone were to ask Hinata if she thought Sasuke were a star now, she would still say yes.

Now, he looked as though he'd burnt out—a fallen star, she thought.

A hollow rock—a shell of what he once was.

She wondered if he was thinking about everything he'd done, everything he'd lost, and she wondered if he still thought it was worth it; she doubted it, though, judging from the expression on his face. Her skin was itching—she wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, to lace her fingers with his just as she had done with Naruto, to be _there _for him—but she was pretty sure the ANBU would have something to say about that, considering how she'd already overstepped her boundaries yesterday. As a result, she stayed where she was, hands clasped in her lap, knees together, desperately thinking of something—of anything—to say and not knowing quite how.

In the end, Sasuke looked at her.

He didn't say anything—nothing at all—just _looked _at her.

His look chilled her—it was as though he was empty inside.

"You would think," he spoke, then, and his voice sounded carefully casual, as if they were just discussing the weather, "That, for a shinobi who has already lost everything, I would be used to _this."_

He didn't say what.

Her voice caught in her throat, and whatever words she'd had to say faded into nothing.

Instead, she simply looked back at him—no challenge in her eyes, simply acceptance.

She didn't know how long she sat there in silence, how long they simply gazed at each other, but it felt like hours—no, it felt like much more than that, and, yet, she couldn't bring herself to look away. The silence stretched on and on, and neither of them made any move to break it; it wasn't quite uncomfortable, either. It was sad, she decided, the heavy sort of silence that often came hand in hand with sorrow—and then finally his lips quirked into a weary, tired smile, much like the ones Naruto had worn earlier that day, and he closed his eyes, said, "You're a funny sort of person, Hinata."

"I think you're the s—second person to have said that today," she replied, softly.

"Then it must be true," he said, with a chuckle, but there was no real amusement in his laughter.

She didn't reply—let the silence stretch on again.

Finally, he cracked an eye open, peered at her.

Then, quietly, he said, "You're good at this, aren't you?"

"I've been told," she replied, and let herself smile at that, ever so slightly.

"By Naruto, probably," he murmured, and shrugged a shoulder when Hinata looked surprised at his guess. "He has a way of saying the truth as he sees it."

"Yes, I s—suppose he does," Hinata said, softly, and then, "He's alright."

"That's a lie," Sasuke replied, instantly—his voice was closed, tight, and she knew she had to tread carefully then.

"I'm sorry; it w—wasn't a very good one," she admitted. "They're both c—coping."

He seemed to consider that.

Then, wearily, he said, "I'm glad."

Hinata waited carefully for a moment, before asking, "Are you coping?"

She watched then as a kaleidoscope of emotion flickered across Sasuke's face, each expression brief and fleeting; scorn, followed quickly by a moment of brief sadness, and then exhaustion, weariness—and then an expression that made her heart ache, something she couldn't quite name; he looked so torn that it made her feel numb, made her feel tired and much older than she actually was; and then, finally, he just closed himself off from her. His face became that mask again—the mask it had been right back at the very beginning, before they _knew _each other—and his eyes returned to that spot just above her shoulder, just behind her, on the wall. She waited, if only for a few moments, before standing, brushing her lap off and heading towards the door—he probably wanted to be alone. She was probably just bothering him—and, yet, she lingered at the doorway, hesitating for a moment.

When her hand closed around the door handle, he said, "Wait."

She turned, looked at him for a long moment—and while his expression was still closed and tight, his eyes were heartbreakingly sad, pleading with her, _begging._

To leave now would be cruel, she realised, and made her way over to the door separating her from Sasuke; behind her, she felt, rather than heard or saw, the ANBU move to stand directly behind her, close enough that she was certain she'd be able to hear their breathing. She stayed where she was for a moment, and then they both moved back to their previous positions, certain she wasn't a threat. The door was locked, as she'd known it would be, and so she gathered her chakra in her fingertips, slicing through the lock completely; it wasn't the strongest of locks, sure, but she was pretty sure that was because there wasn't much of a chance of Sasuke breaking free of his bonds anyway. She pushed open the door, stepped inside the room, and then crossed over to Sasuke immediately; she didn't let herself touch him, not this time, just stood in front of him and then said, with a small smile, "I'll just sit here, okay?"

And that was what she meant to do, just as she'd done with Naruto—she meant to sit in front of him, offering her support silently as she'd done before.

And yet—

And _yet—_

She closed the distance between them quickly, easily, and then her hand was at the back of his head, and she was standing on her tip-toes, bringing him as close to her as she possibly could considering his restraints—she could feel his chin resting gently atop her head, and this wasn't what she meant to do, but they just—they _fit _together, and she knew this helped him. She knew it helped him, because it helped her—and that lump that had been in her throat since way before talking to Naruto, since she'd sat and drawn in the dirt with that little girl, disappeared completely, and she felt him relax against her.

She pulled herself backwards only slightly, enough so that she could see his eyes, see his expression. In those moments, she saw that he was a shooting star again—and his eyes burned as he looked back at her. She saw that he was a shooting star, burning his fiery path across the sky, and, as she pressed her head against his chest and closed her eyes, she wondered if he was dragging her along with him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**notes**2**: **Hinata is sort of accepting her feelings—but guys don't get too comfortable okay? ;D


	24. day 24

**project: **Fifty Days  
**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
**dedication: **To everyone who has stuck with me.

**chapter: **24/5o  
**summary: **"In fifty days, Uchiha Sasuke will be executed." For fifty days, she will visit him. For fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.

* * *

**notes**1**:**

I'M AN AWFUL PERSON.

But hey, A Levels now, guys—and I swear, I might be 50 when I finish this, but I _will _finish it.

Also guys, my sister and I are participating in this competition to meet McFly, but it's one of those competitions where the person with the most votes wins. We'd really, _really _love to win this, so could you please vote for us? Just copy and paste this link—it might not take you there instantly, but you should see a youtube video, with "ohgoditsbriony" at the top—and then click the voting box by the side. If the link doesn't take you to it, plug "ohgoditsbriony" into the search engine and you'll find it straight away (and if you need any further help, PM me). You need facebook to vote, though, but if you happen to know anyone—anyone at school, your family, Internet friends—who has facebook, please try and persuade them to vote!

Here's the link:

Add this to the end of (youtube) dot com with a forward slash.

_watch?v=mzvV2_BPPQE_

Follow the link from the YouTube video.

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**.**

**.**

**.**

The sky was cloudless—pale grey and bright.

Hinata squinted, shielding her eyes, and tried not to think too hard about anything, because, recently, all that she'd been doing was thinking—thinking about her, and about Sasuke and Naruto and all the people she'd lost and would lose, and now wasn't a time for thinking. Now was the time for sitting back, legs kicked out in front of her, fingers splayed loosely across the grass, squinting up the sky and just—_not _thinking. Yes, now was the perfect time for that because, in a few seconds, all of it would come rushing back to her and she'd have to _think _again—

She closed her eyes against the bright grey sky and breathed in slowly, through her nose.

Ahead of her, a single bird circled, slowly and lazily. A blot of black against grey, she thought, monochromatic but still beautiful; and then a shadow fell over her, and she cracked open one eye, peered up at Neji. He was wearing black, like the bird—a beautiful black kimono, no finery, and a black sash pulled across his forehead, his usual Konoha headband elsewhere. He looked too pale, she thought; paler than the bright sky, and his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, as he spoke, said, "Are you ready?"

She closed her eyes again—breathed in through her nose.

He stayed where he was, too still.

Waiting, she supposed, and then opened her eyes—forced a smile, and said, "Yes."

She wasn't lying, though—not really—but she supposed she wasn't ready, either.

She took his hand though, when he offered it, and let him pull her to her feet, giving her a few seconds to smooth the crinkles and rumples out of her own kimono; her fingers paused at the hem of the black fabric, lingering there for a moment. Then she straightened, fixed her features into another smile—this time gentler, but still not quite genuine; although she didn't understand how anyone could really, _properly _smile right now. She wondered absently if Naruto would smile with his all, the way Kakashi would want him to, at the funeral, and then ended the thought as quickly, as fleetingly, as it came. Thinking about Naruto brought back all the things she didn't want to think about—all the confused, jumbled feelings she was still waiting to sort through and rearrange, and the way she'd watched Sasuke's face flicker like lights in darkness, broken and aching, and that made her head hurt. She didn't want to think about that, not right now—not when she could be thinking of Kakashi, she reasoned, and her smile turned bitter at the edges. If Neji caught it—if he caught any of the emotions playing across her face—he didn't say anything, and she was glad for that, because she didn't know what she'd say if he had mentioned it.

He had noticed, though—she knew, because he let his shoulder bump very gently against hers; so quickly and gently that, had she not been looking for some sort of acknowledgement, she would have missed it completely. Her smile softened, then, and for a few seconds, she felt like she was a little girl again—she felt like she'd felt before, when she'd peeked around from behind her father's leg and seen Neji looking back at her, with something akin to a wide-eyed frown.

She let her fingers tangle very loosely with his, by their sides.

He still didn't say anything—just swiped his thumb across the back of her hand, and then moved his hand away altogether.

That's okay, though, because that was all she needed.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ino combed her fingers through her hair, sweeping it back into a bun—it was getting too long now, beginning to knot at the ends, and she would have to cut it soon. It was an absent thought, flitting briefly through her mind—a respite, she realised, from what she had been previously thinking about; or _who_, rather, and the same who she was certain everyone in the village was currently thinking about. She ran her fingers through her hair again absently, clipping her fringe away from her face and peering at her reflection in the mirror—there were bags under her eyes, deep dark shadows, and she thought she looked older than usual.

Older than she really was, she thought, and let her fringe fall back in front of her face.

Downstairs, Shikamaru knocked at her door.

She knew it was him—could tell almost immediately, because there was no one else who could make something as simple as knocking at a door seem like a chore, but hey, he managed it. She straightened, arching her back, gazing at her reflection—and blue eyes stared back at her, cold and angry at everything and everyone, before softening into something just a little bit like misery. She tucked her fringe behind her ear—because somebody should see the scars, she decided—and then headed over to the front door, slipped away the latch and peered at her friend.

"Yo," he said, and raised a hand in a lazy wave. "You ready to go?"

"No," she said, simply, and he let his hand fall to his side.

His features were troubled—curiously so, she decided, as if he hadn't expected such an honest answer—before his eyebrows furrowed, and he got that expression he usually had when he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. "You want to stay for a few seconds—"

"No," she repeated, and shrugged a shoulder. "I need to do this now."

"Oh," Shikamaru said, as if he understood.

Ino's laugh was very nearly genuine—just a bit too sad—then, at his mildly confused expression, and she slipped out of the door, locking it behind her, let her feet carry her so that she was just a bit ahead of him. He caught up with her easily enough—or perhaps she slowed down to meet him, just like she always did—and she let her shoulder press against his as they walked to Sakura's place; there was no way she wasn't going to be with her friend today, of all days, and she was just glad for Shikamaru's support. It had always been that way, after all—if there was someone you could rely on to be there for you to, to be silent and understandingly so, then it was Shikamaru; like a shadow, she mused, and let a little smile play at her lips even as she knocked on Sakura's front door.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Sakura that answered, though.

She found herself face to face with Sai, and she blinked, eyebrows raising slightly.

"You're here," she said, mildly surprised.

"I am," Sai replied, and his usual smile wasn't in place.

He looked—different, she thought; not older, not like her. Without his smile, there was something oddly vulnerable about him; something small and afraid, she thought, like a child; something in his eyes as he looked at her, fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe too tightly—and then he stepped aside, stepped backwards, let her slip past him and into the room beyond. She lingered for a moment, waiting for Shikamaru—but the other shrugged his shoulders, offered her a lazy smile, and said, "I'll wait for you here."

"Right," she nodded, but didn't turn back to look at him.

Instead, she just walked forwards, head held high.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Can we j—just stop here quickly, Neji?"

Neji looked puzzled, if only briefly, glancing up at the apartment they had stopped beside—then his eyes widened, only a fraction, and he nodded sharply, the understanding bright in his eyes. In those few seconds, Hinata felt such an extreme love for her cousin—surging and brilliant—when she thought of how he used to be; how he would have scoffed, no doubt, at her asking, but still would have agreed, even with the contempt and disdain glittering in his eyes. Now, though, he was looking at her like she was someone brave and wonderful, and that—

That was what she needed right now.

She let go of his hand and crossed over to the door; knocked once, gently, softly.

There were a few moments of silence, and they seemed to stretch on for far too long.

Then the door slid open, and Kurenai stared wearily back at her, appearing years older than she really was; there were deep, heavy bags beneath her eyes, and she wasn't wearing any make-up, her hair pulled back into an unkempt, messy bun. It was strange seeing her without that characteristic bright red on her lips—without that vibrancy, Hinata realised, and felt awkward standing on her doorstep, unsure of what to say, what to do. She shifted from foot to foot, waiting for Kurenai to open the door, to invite her in, to at least say _something_—but there was nothing. Kurenai just looked at her, eyes tired and exhausted and not really seeing Hinata at all; seeing ghosts of the men she once loved.

"I, ah," Hinata began, and then trailed off, unsure. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm alright, Hinata."

"But I—"

"Really, I _am."_

"I didn't think you should b—be alone, sensei."

Kurenai stared unseeingly back at her, and her lips pulled into the smallest, saddest of smiles.

"What an awful thing to say," she said, and smiled, "I'm completely alone now."

"That's not—that's _not _true."

It was almost like she wasn't really there—like the strong, beautiful woman who'd convinced Hinata to be something more than she was had just faded away completely. She wanted to look back at Neji for advice, but she felt like that would be cowardice.

Instead, she stepped forwards—stepped towards and _into_, and enveloped her sensei in a hug.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, balanced precariously on the edge of the doorframe, and Kurenai was stiff and didn't react at first, just standing there, her hands limp by her sides. And then Hinata pressed the flat of her palm against her back, pulling her in, and she just crumpled, like a house of cards—like a paper doll—leaning in and against Hinata, one hand reaching to claw up at her back, her head buried in the crook between shoulder and neck. She was silent, if only for a minute, but her entire body was quivering as if she were on a livewire; and then she began to sob, quiet at first, before growing louder and louder, the wails of a woman who had lost completely everything and didn't know what to do.

Hinata stayed silent—let her weep and held her close.

Behind them, Neji turned his head and allowed them something like privacy.

**.**

**.**

**.**

She leant against the door, watching as Sakura scraped her hair back into a harsh, severe ponytail, fingers clawing at her scalp almost as if she were trying to cause herself as much physical pain as possible—and, for someone with monstrous strength, Ino supposed that would be a _lot _of physical pain. She let her fingers drum absently against her biceps, arms crossed, and watched as Sakura let her hair fall back around her face with an angry tut, before tugging it back and repeating the entire process again.

"Have you even brushed it," she asked, absently, with a tilt of her head.

"Be quiet," Sakura snapped, without any real bite to her words, no force behind it.

Ino tutted loudly, stepping forwards. "Give it here."

She held her hand out for the brush Sakura had abandoned on her dresser table.

There was a brief, frosty silence, and Ino met the gaze of Sakura's reflection in the mirror, lips tugged into something that was a half a smile and half a frown. She held her hand out patiently and, when Sakura still didn't move, her entire pose softened, shoulders slumping, fingers curling and uncurling, and she said, "I can do it right for you, forehead—you know I can."

"Don't call me that," she replied, absently, but picked up the hairbrush nonetheless, "Pig."

"Yeah, yeah—don't pretend you don't love it."

Ino crossed forwards, then, took the brush gently from her friend.

She'd always liked brushing hair, especially when the pair of them were younger—Sakura used to have the loveliest, softest hair, like the petals of a rose, and Ino used to like running her fingers through the strands, picking out each little piece and tying her hair into tiny little plaits, braiding her hair as they sat together in her bedroom. Sakura always used to complain about it—about the length, about the colour, about the style—but Ino saw the little smile in her eyes, at the corners of her lips, when Ino insisted she'd never seen nicer hair; that she'd trade her boring blonde hair for Sakura's at the drop of a hat, if she wanted to. Things had changed with Sasuke—and that had been very, _very _stupid—but she'd never stopped wanting Sakura's pretty, pretty hair. Even now, cut short and jagged, a practical style but not necessarily pretty, she wanted it, because it was still feather-soft, still so easy to brush, still so beautiful.

Neither of them said anything, and Ino pretended not to notice the tear-tracks down Sakura's cheeks.

Instead, she plucked the black sash from her friend's hand and said, "You've always been useless at this."

Sakura's voice was only slightly choked when she asked, "At what?"

"At getting things right," Ino said, gently, as she swept the hair away from Sakura's forehead.

"Thanks," she replied, and her chuckle was dry, sarcastic.

"And brilliant at getting things wrong," she continued, and looped the hair back into a bun, tying it into place with a bow. Her fingers lingered, if only briefly, in Sakura's hair, and she said, ever so softly, "He wouldn't want you to cry, you know."

There was no reply for a moment, then, and Ino let her hand fall to Sakura's shoulder.

Then fingers brushed gently against hers, and Sakura's green eyes were strong in the mirror.

"I know," she said, and there were no more tears.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Hatake Kakashi was—"

There was a pause, then, as Tsunade stopped, thought for a moment.

Hinata was standing with her hands clasped loosely in front of her, fingers pressing together nervously, with Kiba at her side, shoulders touching, and Shino standing behind her, head ducked slightly in respect. There was a slight breeze—nothing too fast nor cold, and no rain; it was just _sad_, she thought, like even the wind was in mourning, and she ducked her head, tried not to look at Naruto out of the corner of her eye. He was standing at the front, Sakura by his side, and they were holding hands tightly, as if each needed the other just to keep standing; they were acting as lifelines for one another, she realised, and it felt cruel to watch.

By her side, Akamaru let out a soft, pitiful whine, and Kiba rubbed his knuckles absently across his head, murmuring something quiet and quick into the silence.

In front of them, the coffin shone black in the light.

It hurt her eyes to look at it, and so she looked away, out of respect—

Out of _cowardice._

Ahead of her, Naruto and Sakura were lonely together.

It was all so sad and so cruel and oh, so _unfair._

Akamaru let out another low, soft whine as if in agreement, and this time she knelt, ran her fingers through his fur, let them wrap around the soft strands and just held herself there, pressing her forehead against his fur. Kiba crouched with her, slung an arm lazily around her shoulder, and Shino stepped to stand beside her, his leg nudging gently across her side; and it was unfair, because how could Naruto be so lonely when she wasn't? She thought of Sasuke trapped in his cage, mourning without being allowed to mourn, and thought again that it was all unfair—so, _so _unfair, and Akamaru let out another little whine, shifting to nudge his wet nose against her forehead. She smiled then, through watery eyes, and then straightened, let Kiba almost guide her to her feet.

She caught Naruto's glance in her direction—saw his bright, sad smile and it broke her heart.

And then she thought of Sasuke—

She thought of the half-smiles he did.

She thought of the way he'd looked like he was shattering, breaking, the last time she'd seen him.

And then she thought of Kakashi, cold and broken and _dead_, in his coffin, and everything suddenly seemed so bright and so dull all at once, so unfair, sparking in and out of existence and becoming this mess of colours and fury that she didn't even slightly want to think about anymore. She let the half-smile she'd been offering Naruto slip off her face, even as he turned away to face his sensei, and then she looked around the room, at all of the faces; at those she knew—at Neji and Tenten and Lee, stood shoulder to shoulder, and then Shikamaru, no longer slouching, back ram-rod straight. She looked to her left and saw Kurenai, and she wanted to cross over to her sensei, to sling her arms around her and just hug her, promise her things would get better—that she wouldn't have to lose everyone, because she hadn't lost Hinata, not yet. She just looked so small and fragile and—_defeated._

She wondered when everyone had had to grow up—why it had happened so _quickly._

Hinata pressed her fingers against the inside of her palm, and heard:

"Kakashi was a great shinobi—"

Ahead of her, she saw Naruto close his eyes, bowing his head.

She watched his hand curl uselessly, helplessly into a fist, before loosening.

In those moments, she wanted nothing more than to cross over to him and pull him into a hug.

After that, she couldn't look at him anymore.

She kept her eyes trained on the coffin in front of her, a black stain, so unfairly beautiful in such a simple manner—her fingers twisted together, knots with her hands, and the rest of the funeral passed in a blur of cold, stony silence and Tsunade's clear voice, strong against it all. She wondered if that was maybe the worst thing about being Hokage—having to stay strong even when others weren't, even when maybe you couldn't—and then she didn't think about it anymore, instead letting the words flow over her, overtake her. She closed her eyes and just listened; thought of the shinobi she'd known, albeit not as well as she'd have liked to, and let herself feel regret.

"He was a _brilliant_ man," Tsunade said, finally, and the words choked in her throat—she sounded hesitant, unsure.

She noticed—even though she didn't want to—Naruto stiffen.

"And—and a friend to _all _of us."

The Hokage fell silent then, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

Hinata mimicked her, and so did everyone else in the room—and their prayers mingled as they closed their eyes.

**.**

**.**

**.**

One by one, they left—fell away, she thought, like dominoes.

She lingered, if only for a second, watching him—saw the way his shoulders hunched and then fell, all in one fluid motion, hands furling into fists before falling loosely by his sides. She watched the droop of his shoulders—the way he seemed to just become smaller, to turn back into that little boy she'd seen hunched on the swing, broken and so _scared, _she realised, saw it in the way he flinched when Sakura's fingers brushed across the back of his hand. She watched as they leant in together—heard Sakura murmur something low and soft, before bowing her head in respect, stepping away from the coffin and letting Ino (and where had she come from, Hinata wondered, or had she just been watching, like she was?) lead her slowly and carefully away, like she was something fragile.

Like they were both made of glass, she thought, and stepped forwards.

And then she hesitated, paused—watched as Sai swept forwards to take Sakura's place, saying something she couldn't quite catch; it was comforting, no doubt, and she saw the little smile flit briefly across Naruto's face. She waited a few seconds longer, and saw Tsunade hovering to their left, obviously waiting for a chance to step forwards and offer her condolences.

In those few moments, she thought that maybe Naruto didn't need her.

Maybe there was someone else who would need her more.

She smiled a sad little smile and then left without another word.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"The funeral was today."

Sasuke closed his eyes, letting his head fall back—for a few seconds, he was calm, collected; waited for his heart to stop pounding in his chest, to stop leaping and falling, and then, when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with such concern that it hurt and he wanted to close them again. It was stupid, and ridiculously so, but in those moments he didn't want to see her look so broken, especially not for him—didn't want her to look so fragile and hurt and—

"What happened?" he asked, and almost immediately regretted it.

He didn't voice that, though—instead, he held her gaze, steady and cold.

She looked back at him, brow furrowed, uncertain.

For a few awful moments, he thought maybe she _pitied _him, and he didn't want her pity.

He didn't _need _her pity.

He needed her to speak, and keep on speaking, until he could forget it all, but he didn't know how to ask for that, so instead he closed his eyes and said, very quietly, "Tell me."

She seemed uncertain, unsure, opening and closing her mouth as if she didn't know what to say.

"_Please_," he said, and very nearly broke.

She paused then, but only for a brief, fleeting moment—paused so that she could look at him, features softening into something like a smile, but her eyes were breaking _for _him, he thought, and she stood up, straightened. Then she crossed over to the glass, placing her palm flat against it, and she began to speak, in a soft voice, with words like clouds, like a soft breeze, and words like daggers; words that hurt and hurt and _hurt_, until he wanted them to stop—until he had to close his eyes, because he didn't know what else to do. She told him how Kurenai had cried, had _screamed_, like a wounded animal; told him how Sakura hadn't shed a tear; how she'd stood straight and tall, held her head high, and clutched Naruto's hand so desperately, so tightly, that she feared he'd end up with broken fingers. She told him how so much had been said, because there was so much to say about Kakashi, but, in the end, how it had all come down to a few choice words. She told him how they'd left one of his books on the top of his coffin, like a joke only a few of them were in on; how they'd burnt it at the end of the funeral and scattered its ashes into the wind.

She told him how Naruto hadn't said a word, not through it all.

She told him how he'd stood with his shoulders shaking.

She told him how he'd been lonely to the end, but not alone at all.

And then she told him that she didn't want him to be lonely anymore—but Sasuke wasn't sure if she was talking about Naruto anymore, because her eyes were soft and gentle on him, and her fingers curled against the glass, as if she were frustrated, as if she didn't know quite what to say or do anymore.

Then she ran out of words, and she didn't say anything at all.

He learnt that that was just as nice as her voice—just as enchanting.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about anything; but he couldn't stop himself from opening his eyes again, from letting her capture him, gaze steady and strong locked with his, as if she were willing him to pick himself up. He felt as though she was fixing him, bit by bit, word by word, tiny little look by tiny little look—and he didn't know what to call it, the way his very being seem to _surge _for her—seemed to need her, drinking up her every little movement and using it to fix himself, like she were a medicine, an ointment, made solely for him.

When at least an hour had passed, his lips curled into the smallest of smiles and he tipped his head back, closed his eyes.

"He was a great shinobi," he said, echoing the words Hinata had told him Tsunade had spoken.

She hummed in agreement, dipped her head in a nod, echoed, "A truly great shinobi."

"And a brilliant man."

"Yes—one of the best."

"I'll—"

His voice choked—the words ended there.

Her eyes were gentle on his, and she smiled, ever so slightly.

He didn't realise his cheeks were wet, even as he finally spoke.

"I'll miss him."

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**notes**2**: **While writing this, I listened to Adele songs and wept.  
**notes**3**: **Please vote for us, too, remember guys!


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